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THE 


LAST CRUISE OF THE MOHAWK 









HIS CRIES GUIDED THE YOUNG OFFICER TO THE SPOT. 


THE LAST CRUISE OF 
THE MOHAWK 


A BOY'S ADVENTURES IN THE NAVY IN 
THE WAR OF THE REBELLION 


BY 

/ 

Wi J. HENDERSON 

<\ 

ILLUSTRATED BY HARRY EDWARDS 


0 " V 



NEW YORK 


CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
1897 


L 



Copyright, 1897, by 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 


IZ- 


TROW DIRECTORY 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
NEW YORK 


BRANDER MATTHEWS 







CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGB 

A Nocturnal Smoking-Party, i 

CHAPTER 11 . 

A Fruitless Cross-Examination, 9 

CHAPTER III. 

Two Precious Pairs, 16 

CHAPTER IV. 

School-Boy Honor and its Reward, .... 25 

CHAPTER V. 

A Light in the Darkness, 32 

CHAPTER VI. 

Out in the Cold World, 39 

CHAPTER VII. 


Lost in a Squall, 


47 


Vlll 


Contents 


CHAPTER VIII. 

PAGE 

Johnny all at Sea, 55 

CHAPTER IX. 

In the Second Dog-Watch, 62 

CHAPTER X. 

“An’ a Sailor at Last was He,** . . . .72 

CHAPTER XI. 

A Morning Watch in the Foretop, .... 82 

CHAPTER XII. 

An Unexpected Meeting, 92 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Drilling a Marine, 101 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Off Mobile Bay, no 

CHAPTER XV. 

“ An August Morning with Farragut,’* . . .122 

CHAPTER XVI. 


The Last of the Tennessee, 


• 131 


Contents 


IX 


CHAPTER XVII. 

PAGE 

“ Delicate Ariel, I’ll set thee Free,’* . . . 140 

CHAPTER XVHI. 

A Sail and a Night-Chase, 148 

CHAPTER XIX. 

An Old-Fashioned Naval Duel, 157 

CHAPTER XX. 

At Sea in a Whale-Boat, 165 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Hiram Brewer Leaves Sancet 174 

CHAPTER XXII. 

An Unexpected Obstacle, [82 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Jack Tars all Adrift, 190 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

A Drifting Wreck, 198 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Waiting for a Sail, 207 


X 


Contents 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

PAGE 

PoRGY AND Company Under Hatches, . . . .216 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Surprises in the Forepeak, 226 

CHAPTER XXVHI. 

An Effort for Freedom, 235 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Johnny and His Tunnel, 245 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Johnny Conceives a Plan, . . . . . .253 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

How Johnny’s Plan Developed, 261 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

. 269 


All Back at Sancet, 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


v/ 


PACING 

PAGE 


His Cries Guided the Young Officer to the Spot 

Frontispiece 

V He Bounded Through the Nearest Port into the 

Water 136 

“ We’re a Party o’ Shipwrecked Mariners,” an- 
swered PoRGY, 218 




Together they Fell to the Deck, , , , • 266 



THE 


LAST CRUISE OF THE MOHAWK 

CHAPTER I 

A NOCTURNAL SMOKING-PARTY 

It was a dark night, with a dash of rain in 
the air. The northeast wind moaned dismally 
around the corners of the old Tuzo School, 
and whistled through the branches of the trees 
outside, making them sway and bend and rattle 
vigorously. If the Tuzo School had been 
down at Sancet, near the waters that lashed 
the shores of old Cape Cod, the breaking of 
the surf would have added its double bass to 
the harmony of the night. That was the sound 
which Johnny Rodgers missed as he undressed 
to go to bed after a day of hard study. 

“ When it blows,” he said to himself, “ I like 
to hear the sea. That makes me feel more at 
home, and I can sleep better. But I suppose 
Tm tired enough to do without rocking to- 
night. Anyhow, here goes.” 

1 


2 


The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

So saying, Johnny blew out the candle, 
which was the sole illumination of his little 
chamber up in the mansard roof, and sprang 
into bed. He was a hardy, well-built, and 
healthy boy, but for some time he lay awake, 
thinking more intently than usual over the 
events of the day. He was just a little nervous, 
and he did not know it. He had studied hard 
and had fairly mastered some pretty stiff les- 
sons, but he could not help seeing that, no 
matter how hard he worked, or how well he 
played at the games common to the school, he 
was not held in high esteem by the ruling set, 
of which Morton Brewer was the head. John- 
ny had not any mother to go to with his trou- 
bles, and sometimes he was thoroughly dis- 
heartened. He had read a good deal in the 
papers about the great war that was going on 
between the North and the South, and some- 
times he felt as if he would like to go and fight, 
too. Presently he drifted off into a light sleep 
and dreamed that he was a drummer-boy. 

“ Who’s that? ” 

Johnny sat bolt upright in bed and spoke in 
a loud voice. 

“ ’Sh ! No one’s going to hurt you,” came 
the reply. 

Johnny was now thoroughly awake, for he 


A Nocturnal Smokhig- Party 3 

had not been asleep long. He saw that his 
window had been opened from the outside and 
that a boy was just in the act of climbing in. 
Another boy followed, and then the window 
was cautiously closed again. 

“What do you fellows want?” asked John- 
ny, who was not a little alarmed by this uncere- 
monious entry into his room. 

“You keep quiet, Snooks,” replied a voice 
which Johnny at once recognized as that of 
Morton Brewer, son of his guardian, Hiram 
Brewer. 

“ We ain’t going to do you any harm,” said 
Morton. 

“ Well, but why have you come?” demand- 
ed Johnny. 

“ Now, youngster,” replied Morton, who was 
three years older than Johnny, “my friend, 
Frank Betts, and myself have done you the 
honor to pay you this evening call in order 
that we may have a quiet smoke in your pala- 
tial apartment.” 

“But that is not fair,” said Johnny; “sup- 
pose a teacher smells the smoke.” 

“Then, my dear young friend,” said Morton, 
who did all the talking for himself and his 
friend, “ you will have to explain the presence 
of the smoke in your room.” 


4 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 
“ And you ? " 

We shall return to our own boudoirs by 
yonder airy path.” And Morton waved his 
hand gracefully toward the window. The two 
boys had climbed out of the window of Frank’s 
room, which was near the other end of the 
building, and had walked along the rain-gutter 
to Johnny’s window. It was a dangerous thing 
to do, for the mansard roof, in which their 
rooms were, was thirty feet above the campus, 
and the rain gutter, like everything else about 
the Tuzo School, was old and untrustworthy. 
But the schoolboys of the Tuzo institution were 
no more distinguished for wisdom than those 
of other schools, and were always doing things 
that were dangerous. 

Johnny Rodgers, who was a strong and 
hardy boy of fifteen, had done risky things 
himself, but never for the sake of smoking in 
another’s room. If Johnny had wished to in- 
dulge secretly in the foolish practice of smok- 
ing, he would have taken all the risks on his 
own shoulders. But Morton Brewer had al- 
ways bullied Johnny. When Johnny’s father 
had died, the boy had been left to the guard- 
ianship of Hiram Brewer, his father’s lawyer. 
Johnny’s mother had passed away a year 
later, and the little fellow was an orphan. It 


A Nocturnal Smoking- Party 5 

was well known that his father had left a 
considerable sum of money in trust for the 
boy, to be paid to him on his twenty-first 
birthday. But no one would have supposed 
that Johnny was the heir to a large fortune. 
Hiram Brewer was mean and close, and he 
kept Johnny on very short allowance. The 
boy had poor clothes, poor shoes, and poor 
hats. Indeed he looked like the child of pov- 
erty. Every one wondered when Hiram 
Brewer sent him to the Tuzo School, which 
was only five miles away from Sancet, his 
home. But the wonder ceased when it was 
learned that Johnny had been sent there on a 
scholarship for orphans, so that, in spite of his 
reputed wealth, he figured as a sort of charity 
scholar. That made some of the other boys, 
especially those in Morton Brewer’s set, look 
down on him. If Johnny had been a little 
older, he would have seen that the better class 
of fellows esteemed him for his own personal 
character. He had heard rumors that Hiram 
Brewer was using his money in speculations, 
but the boy had no way of ascertaining the 
facts, and felt that he was at his guardian’s 
mercy. 

Morton Brewer, a young man of eighteen, 
was the swell” of the Tuzo School. He al- 


6 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

ways had his pockets filled with money, wore 
fine clothes, and had a horse to ride. He 
boarded at the school because his mother was 
an invalid and it was thought that his presence 
in the house added to the excitement of her 
nerves. She did not live long to keep him out 
of the house. We shall not hear of her again 
in this story. Long before it has reached the 
point at which Hiram Brewer finds the most 
trouble, she will have gone to sleep under the 
willow-trees in Sancet church-yard. Perhaps 
it would have been better for Morton if she 
had been a stronger mother. 

Her amiable son was sitting in the only large 
chair in Johnny Rodgers’s small room. After 
seating himself in it, he produced a cigar-case 
and handing a “ weed,” as he called it, to Frank 
Betts, took one himself. They lit up and sat 
puffing their “ weeds” in silence. Johnny still 
sat up in bed and wondered what he ought to 
do. He was burning with anger and wished 
that he were big enough to thrash Morton and 
Frank. But he felt that he was really helpless. 
The rain had increased and the wind was ris- 
ing. 

Pretty comfortable, I should say,” remarked 
Morton. 

'‘Rather,” said Frank Betts; “it’s quite a 


A Nocturnal Smoking-Party 7 

convenient thing for us all that we have the 
Snooks here to keep open house for us.” 

“ ril have a lock put on that window to- 
morrow,” said Johnny. 

“ I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said 
Frank. 

“ No, my blooming cherub,” said Morton, 
“ it would only drive us to the unpleasant ne- 
cessity of cutting out a pane of glass with my 
diamond pin the next time we wished to enter. 
Diamonds are very useful for cutting glass. 
You don’t wear them yourself, I believe, do 
you ? ” 

“ No, I don’t,” said Johnny, but I could if I 
had my money.” 

“ That is a pleasing fiction, my son,” rejoined 
Frank, about your having money.” 

“ Well, I haven’t possession of it,” replied 
Johnny, “but Morton knows that his father 
has money of mine, left me by my father.” 

“ A small sum, I am informed,” said Morton, 
airily, blowing a whiff of smoke in J ohnny ’s face. 

“ No, a good deal,” said Johnny, stoutly, “ and 
some day I mean to have it, and then I guess 
you’ll not put on so many airs with me, Mor- 
ton Brewer, for money is the only thing that 
counts with you. You aren’t capable of un- 
derstanding anything else.” 


8 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

I understand that you are a very imperti- 
nent youngster,” answered Morton, angrily, 
“ and if you don’t speak a little more carefully 
I’ll teach you a lesson.” 

^‘You can’t teach me anything,” declared 
Johnny ; “you don’t know enough.” 

Morton sprang to his feet and pulled Johnny 
out of bed. Then, while Frank held the boy, 
Morton poured the contents of the water 
pitcher over his head. 

“ There,” he said, “ I fancy that will cool you 
down a little.” 

“ Hark ! ” exclaimed Frank in a whisper, “ I 
hear some one moving in the corridor.” 

Morton at once started for the window and 
climbed out, Frank following him. They had 
hardly closed the sash behind them before there 
was a sharp rap at Johnny’s door. 


CHAPTER II 

A FRUITLESS CROSS-EXAMINATION 

“ Who’s there?” demanded the boy. 

“ Open your door at once,” came the answer, 
in stern tones. 

Johnny recognized the voice of Mr. Hard- 
ing, the teacher who slept on that floor, but in 
order to gain a little time while thinking what 
he ought to do, he said : 

“ Who are you, anyhow ? ” 

“ You know quite well who I am ; open the 
door.” 

Johnny realized that any further hesitation 
would serve only to make matters worse. So 
with a palpitating heart he went and opened 
the door. There stood Mr. Harding, with a 
lamp in his hand. The light immediately 
showed that the room was blue with tobacco- 
smoke, and Johnny was amazed at the thick- 
ness of it. 

“Well, sir?” exclaimed Mr. Harding. 

“ Well, sir ? ” repeated Johnny, weakly. 

9 


lo The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

** Don’t repeat my words, sir ! ” cried the 
irate teacher. 

“ No, sir,” said the boy, meekly. 

Doors began to open along the corridor and 
heads to peer out. The other boys on the 
floor had heard Mr. Harding’s rap and demand 
for admittance, and they were on the alert to 
see who was in trouble and what kind of 
trouble it was. There was no doubt about the 
kind of trouble, for the odor of tobacco-smoke 
now filled the entire corridor. If Johnny could 
have seen clear to the other end of the hall, he 
would have detected Morton Brewer and Frank 
Betts in the act of peering out of the latter’s 
door to ascertain what he was going to say. 

“So, sir,” said Mr. Harding, “you’ve been 
smoking, eh ? ” 

“No, sir, I haven’t,” answered Johnny, sud- 
denly finding his courage again. 

“ What ! Do you dare to deny it ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I do deny it,” exclaimed Johnny. 

“ Little beggar,” whispered Morton to 
Frank, “ if he tells on us, we’ll make the school 
too hot to hold him.” 

“ I don’t believe he’ll dare to tell,” said 
Frank ; “ he’s not in very good favor now, and 
you know how strong the feeling is against 
peaching.” 


A Fruitless Cross-Examination ii 

“ Yes, I know that well enough,” replied 
Morton, “ but he hasn’t any love for me.” 

“ Listen ! ” said Frank. 

Mr. Harding had been standing silent with 
amazement at Johnny’s apparent audacity in 
denying a charge which seemed to be already 
proved ; but now he found his voice again and 
said : 

“ Why, you impudent boy, your room is full 
of smoke.” 

“ I know it is, sir,” answered Johnny. 

“ Do you deny that it is tobacco-smoke .? ” 

No, sir, there’s no use of trying to deny that.” 

I suppose you don’t expect me to believe 
that it blew in at the window, do you ? ” 

Johnny started, for that was a pretty close 
guess at the real state of affairs, but he said : 

“ No, sir, I don’t expect you to believe any- 
thing I say.” 

But you intend to deny that you have been 
smoking ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. I’ve got to ; I didn’t smoke, and I 
can’t say I did.” 

Morton nudged Frank down at the other end 
of the hall, and whispered : 

“ The young wretch is going to tell ! ” 

‘‘ No,” said Frank, “ I still don’t believe that 
he will dare to do it.” 


12 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Then, sir,” said Mr. Harding, while the 
boys at the various doors craned their necks 
and listened intently, “ I am to understand that 
some one else has been smoking in your 
room.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Johnny, that’s the case.” 

But do you not know that you are almost 
as much to blame for inviting others to smoke 
in your room as if you had done it yourself.” 

“ But I didn’t invite them, sir.” 

“ Well, at any rate, you allowed it.” 

“ But I did not wish to allow it, Mr. Hard- 
ing.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I couldn’t prevent it.” 

Why not?” 

“ Well, sir, there were two of them, and they 
came in and said they intended to enjoy a quiet 
smoke in my room, and they would make it 
pretty lively for me if I didn’t keep quiet. 
But I didn’t keep very quiet, sir. I told them 
what I thought of them.” 

Mr. Harding was silent for a few moments 
as if pondering the probability of the boy’s 
story. Then he suddenly noticed for the first 
time the condition of Johnny’s hair. 

“ Why,” he exclaimed, “ your hair is all wet. 
I believe you’ve been smoking and have made 


A Fruitless Cross-Examination 13 

yourself sick, and have been pouring water on 
your head to give yourself relief.” 

Frank dug his elbow into Morton’s ribs, as 
they stood together down the hall, and said : 

“ Lucky thing we doused young hopeful’s 
head for him.” 

“ Yes,” replied Morton, I don’t see just how 
he’s going to get over that piece of circumstan- 
tial evidence.” 

As for Johnny, he was dumfounded by this 
new and disastrous turn of affairs. He stood 
looking hopelessly at Mr. Harding, and re- 
peated, in a dull, mechanical way : 

“ I haven’t been smoking, sir.” 

Let me see your hands,” said Mr. Harding, 
suddenly inspired with a brilliant idea. The 
boy held up his hands, and the teacher care- 
fully examined them in the hopes of finding 
nicotine stains on them. If such stains had 
been there they would have condemned John- 
ny at once and beyond all hope ; but Mr. Hard- 
ing argued, and with considerable justice, that 
their absence did not prove that the boy was 
innocent. Johnny might have smoked with a 
cigar-holder, and that would have left his 
hands free from stain. 

“ That will do, sir,” said Mr. Harding. 
“ Now I am going to search your room for ci- 


14 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

gar- stumps. I fancy that you can’t smoke 
more than one cigar in an evening yet, and if I 
find more than one stump, I shall be prepared 
to believe that others have been smoking in 
this room, but I do not know that I shall be 
ready to hold you guiltless.” 

If the situation had not been so serious foi* 
Johnny, he would probably have seen the hu- 
morous side of it now. He knew that Morton 
and Frank had thrown the stumps of their 
cigars down the rain spout as they passed out 
of the window. Mr. Harding industriously 
searched the room. He pulled out drawers 
and trunks, washstand and bureau, turned over 
chairs, and even went down on his hands and 
knees to peer under the bed. It is needless to 
say that he found no cigar-stumps. 

What became of the cigar-stumps ? ” he de- 
manded, angrily. 

They went out of the window,” said Johnny, 
speaking with the greatest accuracy. 

Do you still insist that others did the smok- 
ing here ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, and very much against my wishes 
too.” 

“ Who were they ? ” 

Morton and Frank, as well as all the other 
listeners, leaned forward anxiously. 


A Fruitless Cross-Examination 15 

I can’t tell you that, sir,” said Johnny. 

The listeners all looked relieved. 

“Why not? Do you not know who they 
were ? ” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Johnny, “I know who 
they were ; but I do not wish to tell on them.” 

“ Then I shall be forced to believe that you 
yourself were one of the guilty persons.” 

“ I don’t see why, Mr. Harding. I give you 
my word that I have not been smoking.” 

“ I don’t believe you.” 

The boy’s face flushed and he bit his lips, but 
he replied, stoutly : 

“ I am very sorry that you refuse to believe 
me, sir ; but I shall certainly not tell on the 
fellows who came in here and smoked.” 

“ Mr. Durand will attend to your case in the 
morning. Go to bed.” Mr. Harding closed 
the door and left Johnny to such dreams as 
might visit him after such an exciting evening. 


CHAPTER III 

TWO PRECIOUS PAIRS 

Euphrastus Durand was precisely the kind 
of man to make a distinguished failure as the 
principal of a school. He was a whole-souled 
worshipper of the golden calf. If he had had 
his own way he would have put all the rich 
men’s sons at the heads of their classes and let 
the poor ones bring up the rear. 

“ Isn’t it that way all over the world ? ” he 
would say to his wife. “ Look at the Senate 
of the United States. Are there any laboring 
men there ? Who own the railways, the steam- 
ship lines, the great factories, the palatial stores? 
The poor men? No ! The rich ! The rich are 
the smart, the brainy, the talented. Then how 
on earth can anyone expect so humble a per- 
son as I to keep them down ? Far be it from 
me to attempt to interfere with the order of 
nature.” 

And Mrs. Mehitabel Durand, who had never 
known anything except how to cook, wash, and 
sweep, and had never indulged in the foolish 

i6 


Two Precious Pairs 


17 


extravagance of an original idea, listened to 
her husband with the reverence that was due 
to a man who was permitted by Harvard to 
hang A.M. after his name. But pretty nearly 
any boy that has ever taken the liberty of 
thinking for himself will readily come to the 
conclusion that under the management of such 
a man the Tuzo School must have been a pe- 
culiar institution. To be sure there was one 
teacher who strove to inculcate ideas of manli- 
ness, purity, bravery and honor, but he was 
not popular with the ruling set in the school. 

Let no reader of this story misunderstand me. 
I am not crying down riches, nor those that 
possess them. Some of the truest and best 
young men I have ever known have been 
sons of wealthy parents and themselves pos- 
sessed of large fortunes. But they had been 
taught to understand the difference between 
money and its owners, and they knew that a 
man might be a coward and no gentleman, even 
though he had $30,000 a year. The trouble 
with the Tuzo School was that Mr. Durand’s 
reverence for wealth had undermined its moral 
constitution, and had made the majority of the 
boys a set of toadies to the rich few. Athletics 
had not been developed in those days, or such 
a condition could not have existed. To-day 


1 8 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

the fellow who shows skill, pluck and endur- 
ance on the track, in the boat, or on the football 
field, is sure to be admired, no matter whether 
he is rich or poor. Courage, resolution, and 
quickness of wit are fine traits of manhood, 
and the school that holds in high esteem their 
display in sports is, consciously or uncon- 
sciously, worshipping character. 

But let us return to Mr. Durand. A man 
with his regard for wealth could not be ex- 
pected to have a very deep affection for a boy 
who was a sort of charity pupil. He knew 
that Johnny Rodgers was said to have money 
somewhere, but he saw no evidence of it. On 
the other hand, he did see that Mr. Brewer 
treated the boy as of no importance whatever. 
Now it was not at all likely in these circum- 
stances that Mr. Durand would patiently in- 
vestigate any charge of misconduct against 
Johnny. The morning after the nocturnal 
smoking -party, while the boys Avere in the 
school-room at their “ study hour,” Mr. Hard- 
ing knocked at the door of Mr. Durand’s sit- 
ting-room in the main building. 

“ Come in,” came the answer in an oily 
voice. 

“ Good-morning, sir,” said Mr. Harding, as 
he softly closed the door behind him ; “ I am 


Two Precious Pairs 


19 


come, sir, to report a sad breach of discipline 
which occurred on my floor last night.” 

“ I am very sorry to hear that such a thing 
has happened, Mr. Harding,” said Mr. Durand, 
in his most caressing tones ; I fear that you 
must have relaxed momentarily that vigilance 
which has always been one of your most valu- 
able qualifications for the calling of a teacher.” 

“ I think, sir, that you will acquit me on that 
ground when you have heard my story.” 

“ Ah, true ; I have not heard it yet. Sit 
down, Mr. Harding, pray sit down, and speak 
freely.” 

“ I acted the moment evidence of disorder 

reached me, sir, and I am sure ” 

Let me have the story, my dear sir,” said 
Mr. Durand, in a honeyed tone, “ and then I 
can judge for myself.” 

Mr. Harding proceeded to tell the story of 
the previous night, as it had presented itself to 
him, with the greatest attention to details. It 
must be confessed that it made a very bad out- 
look for Johnny. 

“ Dear, dear, dear!” exclaimed Mr. Durand, 
rubbing his hands together with an air of satis- 
faction that belied his words, “ this is indeed a 
sad case. You are sure that it was tobacco- 
smoke ? ” 


20 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Perfectly, sir. I ought to know tobacco- 
smoke when I smell it, I think. That is — of 
course — I do not smoke myself, but I have 
been in the presence of those who did and I 
remember the nature of the odor.” 

“ Precisely, precisely,” said Mr. Durand, nod- 
ding his approbation. “ It is, indeed, strange 
that I should have looked with distrust upon 
that boy ever since his first appearance here.” 

Mr. Durand neglected to say that he looked 
with distrust upon all boys who seemed to 
have little money. 

“ His guardian, Mr. Hiram Brewer, a most 
estimable gentleman,” continued Mr. Durand, 
smiling with pleasure at the remembrance of 
so distinguished a patron, ‘‘ has also displayed 
a keen insight into the character of the lad, 
and has convinced me that he has but little 
hope for his future. And so he resorted to the 
weak subterfuge of accusing others, did he ? ” 
Yes, sir,” answered Mr. Harding, with be- 
coming solemnity. 

“ And you were unable to discover any evi- 
dence that others had been in his room ? ” 

No evidence whatever, Mr. Durand.” 

“Of course, of course,” said the principal, 
pursing up his lips and looking mighty wise ; 
“ if there had been others a boy of so little 


Two Precious Pairs 


21 


character would instantly have revealed their 
names in the hope of escaping punishment I 
thank you, Mr. Harding, for your succinct and 
comprehensive account of this unhappy affair. 
Rest assured, sir, that the dignity of the Tuzo 
School and the authority of its instructors 
shall he upheld.” 

“ Of that, sir, I have never presumed to en- 
tertain a moment’s doubt.” 

Then these two polished and gentle-tongued 
shams arose and bowed most profoundly to 
one another. Mr. Durand, with great impres- 
siveness, opened the door for Mr. Harding, and 
without so much as the glance of an eye to 
indicate that he doubted the outcome of the 
affair, the teacher solemnly passed from the 
presence of his principal. A few minutes later 
the boys went tumbling uproariously down the 
stairs from the school-room, and rushed shout- 
ing into the campus. They had half an hour 
between study-hour and the beginning of the 
morning session of school, and they all were 
eager to make the most of it. Morton Brewer 
and Frank Betts sat down on a rustic seat un- 
der one of the trees. 

What do you suppose old Durand will do 
to young hopeful when he hears of last night’s 
smoking spree ?” asked Betts. 


22 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ I’m blest if I know,” said Morton, “ and, 
what’s more, I don’t know any reason why I 
should care.” 

“ Well, it would be sort of rough if he gave 
the youngster a thrashing for something he 
didn’t do.” 

'‘Think so? Well, I’ll wager it’s no more 
than he deserves for some one of his pranks 
that hasn’t been found out.” 

“ Well, as for that, my lad, I don’t see that 
either you or I have been paid our just debts.” 

“ What are you talking about, Frank ? You 
don’t suppose old Durand would undertake to 
whip us for anything, do you?” 

“ No, of course, I don’t mean that. We’re 
too big, and besides you know old D. wouldn’t 
dream of — Hello ! ” 

This sudden exclamation was caused by the 
fact that Johnny Rodgers had come up to the 
two chums and addressed them. 

“ What do you want ? ” asked Morton, short- 

ly- 

“ Look here, Morton,” said Johnny, “ what 
are you going to do about last night ? ” 

“Do about it? Why, what should I do 
about it? ” 

“ You know Mr. Harding came to my room 
and found it full of smoke, don’t you ? ” 


Two Precious Pairs 


23 


“ Suppose I do know it ; what then ? ” 

“Well, you must know that I stand to be 
punished for what you did. You know per- 
fectly well that I didn’t tell on you.” 

“ Of course, you didn’t,” said Morton, with a 
sneer; “and a good job, too. You don’t im- 
agine that Mr. Harding would have believed 
you if you had, do you ? ” 

“ Not unless you had admitted it,” said John- 
ny ; “ but that’s not the question.” 

“ Well, what is the question, young wise- 
acre ? ” 

“ Are you going to let me take your punish- 
ment, or are you going to clear me ! ” 

“ Clear you ? How ? By telling on our- 
selves? Well, I like your impudence.” 

“ Hold on,. Morton,” said Frank, “ the young- 
ster isn’t so far off. If we confess, old Durand 
will let us off.” 

“ Confess nothing ! He won’t do anything 
much to the boy, and I’m not going to tell on 
myself, I assure you. I’m no such fool.” 

“ Very well,” said Johnny, seeing that Betts 
would do as Morton did, “ I’ll not tell on you, 
but I’ll not take your punishment, either.” 

“ I don’t see how you’re going to escape it,” 
said Morton. 

“ That’s my business,” said Johnny, shortly; 


24 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ but I tell you one thing, Morton ; you’ll live 
to be sorry for this.” 

“What? You mean that for a threat ? ” 

“ No, it’s no threat. But I’m sure that some 
day you’ll be sorry, Morton, and when you are, 
just remember that I said you would be.” 

And Johnny stuck his hands deep down into 
his pockets and walked away. Mr. Durand, 
standing on the school - house steps, gazed 
thoughtfully at the boy, and muttered : 

“ Yes, that’s the plan. I’ll do it.” 


CHAPTER IV 

SCHOOL-BOY HONOR AND ITS REWARD 

A FEW minutes later the whole school assem- 
bled in the large school-room in obedience to 
the summons of the cracked bell. Johnny 
went to his seat with a bosom full of conflicting 
emotions. He was bound by every law of 
school-boy honor not to tell on the two of- 
fenders. What a pity it is that school-boy 
honor” is not a little more strict in its demand 
that an offender shall confess ! It seems to be 
a little mixed, that school-boy honor. How- 
ever, all that Johnny could do in the circum- 
stances was to hold his tongue. He looked 
with some anxiety at the solemn countenances 
of the teachers, and waited uneasily for further 
developments. The morning session opened 
with reading of the Bible and prayer, and im- 
mediately after that the classes went to their 
various rooms to recite the first lessons of the 
day. But on this particular morning, when the 
prayer was completed, Mr. Durand rapped for 
silence and addressed the school. 

25 


26 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

I regret,” he said, “ that an unfortunate af- 
fair of last night requires immediate attention.” 

A sudden hush fell upon the room, and 
Johnny’s heart began to beat fast. 

“The habit of smoking,” continued Mr. 
Durand, “ is most pernicious in the young and 
should be prevented at all hazards. To my 
great pain — I will not add surprise, for I am 
not so much surprised as pained — one of the 
most faithful and accomplished of my coadju- 
tors, last night, detected one of the pupils of 
this school in the act of smoking in his room.” 

There was a stir of surprise at this way of 
putting the case, but Mr. Durand continued: 

“ It becomes my painful duty to publicly 
punish the offender, to the end that such a 
breach of discipline may not occur again. You 
may or may not be aware that one object of 
criminal punishment is the prevention of offence 
by others. I trust that in making an example 
of the present offender, I may succeed in con- 
vincing the rest of you that it will be well to 
avoid smoking in the T uzo School in the future.” 

Mr. Durand paused for a moment to note the 
effect of his words, and then, in his most gentle 
and caressing tone, said : 

“ John Rodgers, please advance to the front.” 

Johnny arose and walked to the space be- 


School-Boy Ho7ior 


27 


tween the front row of desks and the platform 
on which the teachers sat, and stood there, 
calmly looking the principal in the eye. There 
was no swagger or impudence in the boy’s 
manner. He looked what he was — a boy con- 
scious of his own innocence, and if Mr. Durand 
had not felt that he was obliged to play a false 
part, he could not have helped being struck by 
the boy’s air. Morton Brewer and Frank Betts 
sat intently gazing at their victim, and the rest 
of the school felt that something unusual was 
about to happen. 

“John Rodgers,” said Mr. Durand, “ I am told 
by Mr. Harding that he entered your room 
last night and found the atmosphere surcharged 
with tobacco-smoke.” 

“ That is true, Mr. Durand,” said Johnny, re- 
spectfully. 

“ Of course it is true, sir,” said the principal, 
with a sudden assumption of severity. “ Any- 
thing that Mr. Harding says is true.” 

Mr. Durand turned and bowed ceremoni- 
ously to Mr. Harding, and that eminent in- 
structor arose and returned the bow with equal 
state. When this function had come to an end, 
Johnny ventured to speak again. 

“ I only meant, sir,” he said, “that I didn’t 
deny it.” 


28 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Denial would be quite absurd,” said Mr. 
Durand ; Mr. Harding can both see and 
smell, and he did so.’’ 

Morton Brewer could not repress a low gur- 
gle of laughter at this speech. Mr. Durand 
gazed around the school -room, but seeing 
every eye intently fixed on him, cleared his 
throat and proceeded. 

“ Now, sir, tobacco-smoke could not be pres- 
ent in your room unless some one had been 
smoking.” 

Again Mr. Durand paused to let the wisdom 
of his remarks force itself upon the attention of 
his listeners. 

'‘No, sir,” said Johnny. 

" I am of the opinion, judging by what Mr. 
Harding has told me, that the smoker on this 
occasion was none other than yourself.” 

" I told Mr. Harding, last night, sir,” said 
Johnny, “that I did not do it.” 

“Did you expect Mr. Harding to believe 
that the smoke grew of its own accord ? ” 

“ No, sir, of course not. I admitted that 
smoking had been going on in my room.” 

“ And you accused others of doing it.” 

“ That’s the truth, sir. Two boys smoked in 
my room.” 

“ Who were they ? ” 


School-Boy Honor 29 

“ Mr. Durand,” said Johnny, I refused to 
tell last night, and I am not going to change 
my mind now.” 

Well, sir,” said the principal, solemnly, “ I 
am forced to say that I believe your accusation 
of others to be a mere subterfuge, and that you 
yourself are guilty.” 

“ I am not,” said the boy, stoutly, and if the 
two fellows that are weren’t a pair of the most 
contemptible cowards I ever saw, they’d get 
up and prove it.” 

A dead silence followed this speech. Some 
of the boys began to sympathize with Johnny 
and to feel with him that the real offenders 
ought to admit their guilt. Still these same 
boys would have thought it very dishonorable 
of Johnny to tell. As for Mr. Durand, he rolled 
up his eyes in horror at what he chose to re- 
gard as unparalleled impudence. 

You see that no one comes forward to take 
the burden of your guilt from you,” said the 
principal. “ It therefore becomes my painful 
duty to apply the punishment.” 

All the boys and even the teachers leaned 
forward eagerly to see what was coming next. 
Mr. Durand, with an air of mystery, thrust his 
hand into his breast pocket and drew slowly 
therefrom a large, black cigar. 


30 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ My sentence is,” he said, in a voice that was 
simply an impressive whisper, “ that Johnny 
Rodgers shall smoke this in the presence of the 
entire school.” 

A good many of the boys tittered, and two or 
three laughed outright, for it seemed to them 
that Mr. Durand’s purpose was simply to make 
Johnny appear ridiculous in their eyes. But 
Morton Brewer nudged Frank Betts and said : 

“ It’ll make him so sick he’ll wish he was dead.” 

Johnny had no knowledge of smoking, and 
he thought it would be an easy punishment. 
Mr. Durand cut the end off the cigar and 
handed it to the boy, who held it awkwardly 
and began to look a little uncomfortable. 

“ Place it in your mouth,” said the princi- 
pal, “ and then I shall have the honor to give 
you a light.” 

Suppressed laughter now ran all around the 
room and Johnny’s cheeks began to burn. But 
he obeyed the order and Mr. Durand handed 
him a lighted match. Johnny went about his 
task as he had seen others do it, but the first 
whiff of smoke poured into his throat and 
caused him to choke and cough painfully. 

“ Please, Mr. Durand,” he said, “ I’ve never 
smoked, and I don’t know how.” 

“ Don’t tell me any more falsehoods ! ” said 


School-Boy Honor 3 1 

the principal, with a sudden assumption of 
severity. 

not telling you any falsehood,” said John- 
ny, his cheeks and his eyes ablaze, ‘‘and I haven’t 
told you any. And what’s more, Fve never 
smoked a cigar and Fm not going to do it now.” 

So saying the boy turned and threw the cigar 
out of the nearest window. For a few seconds 
there was a silence so intense that the ticking 
of the big clock was the only sound heard in 
the school-room. Then Mr. Durand folded his 
hands in front of him, and in his most velvety 
tone said : 

“ I might have known that from you I should 
receive only disrespect, but I did not look for 
open defiance. I am afraid that I cannot per- 
mit you any longer to hold your pernicious ex- 
ample before the students of this institution. 
Therefore, my misguided young friend, it be- 
comes my sorrowful duty to announce that you 
are expelled from the Tuzo School.” 

“ Expelled ! ” exclaimed Johnny. 

He turned and looked around the school- 
room, as if hoping that now Morton would 
speak, but the whole assembly remained silent. 

“ Well,” said Johnny, slowly, “perhaps it’s the 
best thing that could have happened to me.” 

And he walked firmly out of the room. 


CHAPTER V 


A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS 

Johnny went to his own room up under the 
mansard roof and sat down to think. 

“ I wonder,’’ he reflected, “ whether I’ve been 
foolish in this matter. Ought I to have told 
Mr. Durand that Morton and Frank were the 
fellows who smoked up here last night? Of 
course, if I had done that, the other fellows 
would have made the school too cold to hold 
me. None of them would have spoken to me 
again, and they’d have shut me out of all the 
games and everything, and I’d have been a 
sort of outcast, I suppose. So here I am, ex- 
pelled because it is not honorable to tell on the 
fellows who did the wrong, and they aren’t the 
sort to get up and confess. But suppose I had 
told ; what then ? Mr. Durand would have 
rolled up his eyes in horror, and said that I was 
a wicked, wicked boy to dare to accuse such a 
fine young gentleman as Morton Brewer. And 
he’d have refused to believe me, and written 
to my guardian, and Mr. Brewer would have 
32 


A Light in the Darkness 33 

given me a good going over, and would have 
taken his own son’s side. He’d never take 
mine, that’s sure. And now I wonder what 
he’ll do about it, anyhow ? I’m expelled, and 
he can’t send me back to the Tuzo School; 
that’s one comfort.” 

Johnny now began slowly to gather his 
things preparatory to packing them, and a 
feeling of sadness stole over the lonely little 
fellow. His room at the Tuzo school was 
neither large nor cheerful, but it was his own. 
It was the one place to which he could retire 
and shut himself up from the hard and trouble- 
some outside world that seemed to have so 
little time to care for a helpless orphan. Mr. 
Brewer’s house was not even an apology for a 
home for Johnny, because he was made to feel 
when there that he was not a member of the 
family. He made friends with the servants, to 
be sure, and the big red-cheeked Irish cook had 
many kind words and hot cakes for the mother- 
less child, while the coachman taught him to 
ride and to care for a horse. But Johnny was 
an outsider for all that, and was made to feel it. 
But here at school he had a little world of his 
own, out of which by a cruel reverse of fate he 
was now to be turned. Sadly he picked up his 
little belongings, one by one, and began to put 


34 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


them in his trunk. His worn-out base-ball and 
his splintered bat, and the ragged little cap 
that he had worn on the ball-field, caused him 
a sigh of vain regret. The photograph of the 
second nine almost brought tears to his eyes, 
and he gulped down a sob when he came to 
the picture of the one boy who had been his 
good friend, and had left the school the pre- 
vious year. Presently he picked up the little 
Bible which had once been his mother’s, and 
then the tears did roll down his cheeks, and he 
felt like going over to the school-room and 
begging Mr. Durand not to send him away. 
The little book fell open in his hands, and as 
he gazed down at it through the haze of tears, 
these words suddenly blazed out in tremulous 
letters before his eyes. 

“ Unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul. 

O my God, I trust in thee : let me not be 
ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me. 

Yea, let none that wait on thee be ashamed, 
let them be ashamed which transgress without 
cause. 

Shew me thy ways, O Lord ; teach me thy 
paths. 

Lead me in thy truth, and teach me ; for thou 
art the God of my salvation ; on thee do I wait 
all the day. 


A Light in the Darkness 35 

Remember, O Lord, thy tender mercies and 
thy loving kindnesses ; for they have been ever 
of old. 

Remember not the sins of my youth, nor my 
transgressions ; according to thy mercy re- 
member thou me for thy goodness’ sake, O 
Lord. 

Good and upright is the Lord ; therefore 
will he teach sinners in the way. 

The meek will he guide in judgment ; and 
the meek will he teach his way.” 

Perhaps Johnny did not fully grasp the 
meaning of the inspired words of the Psalmist, 
but the great power of the passage spread its 
healing influence over his injured spirit. He 
closed the book, slipped down upon his knees 
beside the chair, and in a blind and groping, 
but very trustful and reverent way, prayed that 
he might be meek and so get the guidance of 
the Father of orphans. When he arose he felt 
that strangely sweet and mysterious comfort 
that seems to be the inevitable result of the act 
of prayer. The lonely little boy was once 
more brave and resolute, and felt ready to face 
the world that lay beyond the gates of the 
Tuzo School. He finished his packing with a 
calmer spirit, and went down into the campus. 
He might have stolen away unobserved, but 


36 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


there were two or three boys to whom he 
wished to say a parting word, so he sat down 
under the trees near the old pump and waited 
for recess. The robins twittered so merrily in 
the branches over his head that he looked up 
with a smile and said, half aloud : 

“ I wonder if those fellows have school up 
there ; and if they do, do they tell on one an- 
other when any of them does wrong t They 
chatter enough anyhow.” 

His innocent reflections were disturbed by 
the noise of the boys as they came clattering 
and shouting down the school -house stairs. 
Recess lasted only ten minutes at the Tuzo 
School, and so no attempt was made to start a 
game of any sort. The boys usually rushed for 
a drink or to do errands in their rooms. But 
to-day they caught sight of their expelled 
schoolmate sitting under the trees, and there 
was a general pause. 

“ I believe he did smoke,” said Barney Free, 
“ and it serves him right to be expelled.” 

“Well, Barney, you may believe whatever 
you please,” replied Joe Garr, “ but Fm pretty 
sure that I could lay my hand on the fine gen- 
tlemen who did the smoking, and he wasn’t one 
of them.” 

“ If you know so much,” retorted Barney, 


A Light in the Darkness 37 

“why don't you go and give Durand the 
hint ? " 

“ Because it would be more dishonorable for 
me than it would for Johnny,” answered Joe; 
“ besides, I don't positively know ; I only suspect.” 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Barney with a contempt- 
uous sneer. 

But Joe Garr walked over to Johnny and 
held out his hand. “ Good-by, Johnny,” he 
said, “ I’m mighty sorry you’ve got into this 
mess, and it doesn’t seem exactly right to me 
that there shouldn’t be some way out of it for 
you.” 

“Then you don’t think I smoked?” 

“ Not a bit of it, and what’s more I have my 
suspicions as to who did, and I think it’s pretty 
low down of them not to tell.” 

“So do I,” said Johnny, “but I’m not going 
to say any more about that. I’ve just waited 
to say good-by to you and two or three other 
fellows that I like.” 

At that moment Mr. Durand appeared at 
the school-house door, and, seeing Johnny, ad- 
vanced with a stern face. 

“John Rodgers,” he said, “ I forbid you to 
mingle with your former school-mates. You 
are no longer a student of this institution and 
you must leave the grounds.” 


38 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“rm going, Mr. Durand,” answered Johnny; 
“ I stopped only to say good-by to two or three 
friends.” 

“Friends! You have no friends here, sir. 
You are in disgrace.” Johnny looked around 
at the group of boys that had gathered, but 
none of them thought it wise to speak just 
then. 

“ Perhaps I have no friends here, sir,” said 
he, “ although Pm not quite so sure of that as 
you seem to be. But I’m not altogether with- 
out friends, I think.” 

“ If you expect that Hiram Brewer will do 
anything,” said Mr. Durand, “ you are ” 

“Oh, no,” said Johnny, “ I wasn’t thinking of 
Mr. Brewer; I was thinking of One who is 
more powerful than he or you.” 

And leaving Mr. Durand quite aghast at his 
impudence in relying upon Providence, Johnny 
walked slowly out of the grounds of the Tuzo 
School, never to return. 


CHAPTER VI 


OUT IN THE COLD WORLD 

Five miles are not much to a stout young 
fellow who has been accustomed to the use of 
his limbs. Johnny did not give the matter a 
thought when he started off for Sancet, be- 
cause he was usually permitted to walk the dis- 
tance between the Tuzo School and his guar- 
dian’s house. The boy did wish that his trunk 
was out of the school, for he felt that his lit- 
tle personal property would be safer if it were 
by his side. But he hoped that his guardian 
would perceive the necessity of sending after 
the trunk, because it would be cheaper to do 
that than to buy Johnny new clothes. 

When the boy was fairly out of sight of the 
school-house, around a turn in the road, his 
spirits began to rise. He whistled merrily as 
he strode along and at times skipped. Pres- 
ently he saw a gray squirrel sitting up at one 
side of the way and eying him with much 
curiosity. Johnny had some half dried bits of 
bread in his pocket, and he tossed one of them 
39 


40 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


gently toward the bright-eyed beast. The lit- 
tle fellow scampered off a few feet, but soon 
cautiously returned and began to nibble at the 
bread. Johnny sat down on a fallen tree and 
watched him. 

“ Not much trouble for you to get along in 
the world,” said the boy, half aloud; “you 
don’t have to go to school and learn all sorts of 
things that you don’t see the use of, do you ? 
And you don’t get expelled, either. Half an 
acre of woods is all the world you need, and 
the nuts grow just on purpose to feed you, and 
if some fellow comes along with a piece of bread 
in his pocket, why, that’s a picnic for you, isn’t 
it? Now, what do you suppose is going to 
become of me? Am I going to be sent to an- 
other school, or apprenticed to a carpenter, or 
what? Oh, I wish it was like it used to be in 
the old fairy tales, and you would turn into a 
little old woman and be my fairy godmother 
and fix everything all right for me! Why, I’d 
find a pot of gold under this tree, and I’d go 
back to Sancet and marry the princess and 
live happily ever afterward. But there isn’t 
any pot of gold, and there isn’t any princess, 
and you’re nothing but a gray squirrel, any- 
how.” 

At that moment a farm wagon came rattling 


Out in the Cold World 


41 


down the road and frightened the squirrel 
away, so Johnny arose and resumed his jour- 
ney. The morning was warm and sultry, and 
it looked as if there might be a thunder-shower 
before night. The boy paused at a little stream 
that crossed the road and bathed his face and 
head. 

I wish it was big enough for a swim,” said 
Johnny to himself. “ That’s where those min- 
nies down there have the best of me. I seem 
to be on the wrong side of everything just 
now. But never mind, my turn will come ; 
it’s got to come.” 

He trudged along again, and before noon en- 
tered Sancet and came in sight of Hiram Brew- 
er’s house. Beyond the house he saw the blue 
waters of the harbor dancing in the white sun- 
light, and the smell of the familiar salt breeze 
gave him a happy turn. He walked briskly to 
the house and passed around to the kitchen, 
which was his customary entrance. 

“ Mercy on us ! ” exclaimed the cook, its 
the bye. Fwhat are ye doin’ here ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ve come away from school for good, 
Bridget,” said Johnny. 

Far good ? ” 

‘^Yes, I’ve been expelled. Where’s Mr. 
Brewer ? ” 


42 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

‘‘He’s up shtairs in the loibrary. Wurra! 
Ye’re exshpelled ! Sure it’s a great bye ye are, 
indade.” 

Bridget’s notions of the meaning of “ ex- 
pelled” were somewhat hazy. Johnny went 
upstairs and paused in front of the library. 

“ I suppose I may as well go right in and get 
it all over,” he said. So he knocked briskly at 
the door. 

“ Come in,” said a thin, nasal voice. 

The boy entered. Hiram Brewer was seat- 
ed at his desk, and he did not lift his head as 
his ward entered. He was a hard-featured 
man, with wiry gray hair and a waxy skin, and 
as he sat doubled up over his desk he was not 
an encouraging picture. 

“Well, well,” he snapped, without looking 
around to see who it was, “ what is it? What 
is it?” 

“ It is I, sir,” said Johnny, quietly. 

The old man dropped his pen, threw himself 
back in his chair, pushed up his spectacles, and, 
whirling around, looked at the boy in silent 
amazement. At length he found his voice, and 
said : 

“Well, well; what are you doing here? If 
you’ve come to ask for anything, you’ll not get 
it — mind that, you’ll not get it. You’ve no 


Out in the Cold World 


43 


business to be here, anyhow. I’m paying for 
you at the Tuzo School, sir, a fine institution, 
sir, and that’s where you ought to be. Why 
don’t you answer me, sir? What are you do- 
ing here ? ” 

I’m not here of my own choice, sir,” began 
Johnny, and then he paused. It was not easy 
to announce the truth. 

“ Not here of your own choice, eh ? Did 
Mr. Durand send you? Well, well, what does 
he want, eh ? ” 

“ The fact is, sir. I’m expelled,” said Johnny, 
bluntly. 

“ Wha-a-a-t ! ” 

Mr. Brewer’s exclamation was a kind of 
shriek, and it startled Johnny so that he fell 
back two or three steps. His guardian sat 
staring at him for a few minutes, and then, 
shaking his head vigorously, said : 

‘‘ I always knew that you would come to a 
bad end, you worthless young rascal ! But 
what have you been doing, eh ? ” 

Without mentioning the names of the boys 
who smoked in his room, Johnny told his guar- 
dian the story. 

If someone else smoked in your room, why 
didn’t you tell Mr. Durand who it was, eh ? ” 
demanded Mr, Brewer. 


44 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Because the fellows say that it’s low to tell 
on anyone.” 

Rubbish, sir, rubbish ! You have no busi- 
ness to get expelled from an expensive school 
because you won’t tell, sir ; no business at all. 
Who were the boys ? ” 

“Frank Betts and Morton Brewer, sir.” 

For a moment Mr. Brewer looked as if he 
would burst with rage. His face turned al- 
most purple, and dark veins swelled out on his 
temples. He sprang to his feet and advanced 
toward the boy. 

“ How dare you, you young villain, how 
dare you accuse my son of such a thing?” 

“ I didn’t wish to accuse anyone,” said 
Johnny, stoutly. “ You asked me for the 
names and I gave them to you.” 

“You don’t speak the truth, sir; you can’t; 
it isn’t in you. Morton never did such a 
thing.” 

The old man paused for breath and Johnny 
stood silent, because he knew that it would be 
a sheer waste of time and breath to say any- 
thing to his infuriated guardian. 

“ There is but one thing for you to do, sir,” 
said Mr. Brewer at length. 

“ And what is that, sir ? ” 

“ You must go right back to that school and 


Out in the Cold World 45 

apologize to Mr. Durand, and make a confes- 
sion before the whole school.” 

“ But I have nothing to confess, sir.” 

“ Don’t talk to me, you wicked boy. You 
must confess that you did the smoking your- 
self.” 

But I didn’t.” 

“ How dare you persist in denying it, eh ? 
Don’t you know that I can see through your 
miserable falsehoods ?” 

“ That’ll do, Mr. Brewer,” said Johnny, in a 
most decided tone. “ I don’t tell falsehoods, 
and I haven’t told one now. I didn’t smoke, 
and I shall not go back to the Tuzo School, and 
I shall not make any apology or any confes- 
sion.” 

For several moments Mr. Brewer was quite 
unable to speak, so amazed and enraged was 
he by the boy’s determined opposition. 

You hardened young villain,” he exclaimed, 
at length, “ get out of the house at once ! Go 
on ! Back to the school with you ! Don’t you 
dare to show your face here again till you 
have done as 1 have bid you ! ” 

Mr. Brewer took Johnny by the shoulders 
and pushed him out of the library, down the 
hall, and out of the front door, continuing his 
harsh orders all the way until he had fairly 


46 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

put the boy into the street. Then he returned 
to the library, satisfied that his firmness would 
be effectual and that Johnny would do as he 
had been bid. But he did not understand the 
spirit of his ward. The boy stood before the 
house a few minutes in deep thought. A close 
observer might have noted that, as he stood, 
his eyes began to burn with a steady light, 
while his lips closed tightly together. 

If I am never to return to that house,” he 
said, half aloud and very slowly, as if weighing 
each word, “ until I have confessed to what I 
did not do, and apologized to Mr. Durand, I 
am afraid that I am outside of it for a long, 
long time.” 

And, with these words, the boy turned and 
walked down toward the harbor. 


CHAPTER VII 
LOST IN A SQUALL 

It must be admitted that although Johnny’s 
mind was firmly made up in regard to the con- 
fession, he was filled with uncertainty as to the 
outcome of his action. 

Here I am,” he said to himself, as he moved 
slowly down the quiet village street, “ out in 
the world, as far as I can see, and pretty flat 
on my back. What am I going to do ? I can 
saw wood and run errands and make myself 
pretty useful in small ways, but that isn’t go- 
ing to suit me at all. Why, I haven’t half 
enough education yet. I need to go to school 
a whole lot more ; but not at the price that 
Mr. Brewer names. I wonder what I’m going 
to do without my clothes, too. It seems to me 
that this pickle I’m in keeps getting worse and 
worse. Heigho ! There must be some way 
out of it, I suppose, though I can’t see it just now.” 

The boy wandered on down the street. The 
sound of a drum fell upon his ears and he 
paused. He heard the rhythmic tramp of feet 
47 


48 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


and the Sancet Home Guards came marching 
around a corner. 

Now suppose I were to enlist in the army/’ 
said the boy to himself. “ I might get to be a 
great general and come home and make the 
Brewer family feel mightily ashamed.” 

Johnny watched the Home Guards march- 
ing rigidly up the street, and shook his head. 

“ No,” he muttered, “ I’m afraid 1 couldn’t 
stand that sort of thing. It’s too stiff for me. 
I like my liberty too well. Besides, the Home 
Guards are only play soldiers anyhow, and in 
the real army they wouldn’t have me because 
I’m too little.” 

Again the boy resumed his walk toward the 
harbor, and in a few minutes arrived at the 
pier where the steamboat landed twice a week. 
Johnny sat down on the string-piece, and 
rested his face on his hands. Directly in front 
of him a handsome twenty-five-foot cat-boat 
lay moored to a buoy. 

“ Humph ! ” exclaimed Johnny, half under his 
breath, “ there’s Morton Brewer’s boat. I’d 
like to know how it is that he can have a hand- 
some boat like that, and I can’t have even an 
old scow. If the truth could be got at I’m 
sure it would be found that some of my money 
helped to pay for her.” 


Lost in a Squall 


49 


The boy sat silent for a few minutes, while 
some unusually bitter thoughts filled his mind. 
Suddenly he sprang to his feet. 

“ Turns me out of his house because I refuse 
to bear his son’s punishment, does he? Well, 
that boat’s as much mine as it is Morton’s, and 
if 1 can’t do anything else, 1 can go out sailing.” 

Johnny went to the shore end of the pier 
where a small rowboat was fastened, and cast- 
ing off her painter, rowed out to the cat-boat. 
He made the row-boat fast to the buoy and, 
boarding the other craft, took the stops off the 
mainsail. As he was hoisting the sail, the old 
fisherman who took care of the cat-boat shuffled 
down the pier and called out to him : 

“ What you doin’ with that boat? ” 

“ I’m going out for a sail.” 

“ You got Mr. Brewer’s p’mission? ” 

“ No ; he didn’t get mine to build her.” 

The fisherman stood aghast at this reply for 
a moment, and then he cried : 

“ Hoi’ on ! You mustn’t take the boat! ” 

You dry up, old shellback,” replied Johnny, 
letting the boat fill away with the wind over 
her starboard quarter. 

That there boy’s crazy,” muttered the old 
man, as he watched his marine charge slipping 
away to the southward. 

4 


50 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

As the boat shot out from under the lee of the 
land and caught the full weight of the breeze, 
she began to speed through the smooth blue 
water in an inspiring manner, and Johnny’s 
spirits rose accordingly. 

'*Go it. Petrel,” he said, laughing for the 
first time that day ; ‘‘ I believe you know that 
the right hand is at the helm.” 

Johnny was a tolerably good sailor, for al- 
though he had no boat of his own, he often 
went out with some of the Sancet fishermen, 
and was regarded as a pretty fair handler of 
small craft. He stood right on out of the har- 
bor and soon had the long, smooth swell of the 
sea lifting the cat-boat on its undulations. 

“This is just fine,” said Johnny to himself. 
“ I wonder if there’s anything to eat aboard 
her.” 

He searched the little cuddy forward, but it 
was empty. 

“ Never mind,” he said, “with this breeze I 
can beat back in plenty of time for supper, and 
— well, I wonder, come to think of it, where 
I’m going to get any supper.” 

He dropped the tiller and let the boat come 
up into the wind, while he once more lost him- 
self in thought about the peculiar features of 
his own case. Now eternal vigilance is the 


Lost in a Squall 


51 


price of safety at sea, and Johnny was neglect- 
ing that fundamental principle. While he sat 
lost in meditation, the wind died completely 
out, and heavy black clouds gathered in the 
northwest. Lightning played in their oily 
folds and low mutterings of thunder were au- 
dible. Presently writhing shreds of grayish 
vapor began to shoot forward from the upper 
edge of the thunder -cloud. Just as some of 
these shreds were almost over his head, a 
louder peal of thunder startled Johnny and he 
looked up. 

Good gracious ! he exclaimed. “ There’s 
going to be a squall.” 

He sprang forward to let go the halyards 
and lower the sail, but at that instant the wind 
burst upon his little craft with a wild shriek. 
The mainsail swung forward with a sudden 
jerk. Johnny saw it coming and threw up his 
arm to guard his head from the blow. The 
stout canvass struck him, and the next instant 
he found himself going over backward into the 
sea. After the first moment of startled sur- 
prise, he paddled gently, knowing that he 
would soon come to the surface. Of course he 
did so, and at once looked around to see what 
had become of the boat. He saw her twenty 
yards away from him, with a broken gaff and a 


52 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

torn mainsail, driving before the wind. In an 
instant he realized that he could not overtake 
her, and he put into practice all his skill at 
swimming. He got his shoes and coat off, and 
then tried to see where the nearest land lay. 
But at that very moment the rain came down 
in torrents, and the poor boy could not see ten 
yards on any side. He now gave himself up 
for lost, yet the spark of hope that still burned 
in his inmost soul caused him to swim slowly, 
husbanding his strength to the utmost. 

The cat-boat was picked up by one of the 
fishermen the next morning, and towed into 
Sancet Harbor. Word was sent to Mr. Brew- 
er and he hastened down to the pier. 

“ Who’s been using that boat ? ” he de- 
manded. 

‘*Wal,” said the man who brought her in, 
“ whoever it was won’t use her ag’in, fur we 
found her empty six mile out to sea.” 

Just then the old fisherman who took care of 
the boat came shambling down the pier. 

I knowed that boy’d git into trouble,” he 
whined ; “ but I couldn’t stop him.” 

“What boy?” demanded Mr. Brewer, turn- 
ing pale with apprehension. 

“Johnny Rodgers, o’ course,” said the old 


53 


Lost in a Squall 

fisherman. “ He tuk the boat out yistiddy an 
hour or so afore the squall, an’ I couldn’t stop 
him.” 

Now it must be said in justice to Mr. Brewer 
that he was terribly shocked and grieved. He 
would have given a good, round sum of money 
— and money was what he loved best — to see 
Johnny safe and well at that moment. He had 
no love for the boy, but he was not wicked 
enough to wish him to die. 

“ Is there no hope for the boy.^” he asked, 
huskily. 

“Wal, sir,” said the man who brought the 
boat in, I’m mortal sorry to say it, but I’m 
afeard there ain’t. You see, I reckon he was 
knocked overboard when the squall struck her 
and couldn’t git back aboard o’ her. An’ it’s 
hardly likely a little feller like him could swim 
long with all his clothes on in sich a squall.” 

Mr. Brewer shook his head sadly, but pres- 
ently a new light came into his eyes. 

“ If the boy’s drowned,” he thought, “ it’s not 
my fault in any way at all. And the money — 
that'll be mine.” 

He turned to the fishermen who stood si- 
lently near him and said : 

“ Men, I’ll give ten dollars to the one who 
recovers his body.” 


54 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


“Wal, Mr. Brewer/' said one, I’m afraid 
there ain’t much hope o’ that.” 

“ But you’ll try ?” 

“ Oh, yas, we’ll try, of course.” 

Hiram Brewer walked homeward in deep 
thought. 


CHAPTER VIII 

JOHNNY ALL AT SEA 

Of course Johnny Rodgers was not drowned. 
If he had been, this story would not have been 
written. If the boy had not been so deeply ab- 
sorbed in his own thoughts just before the 
squall swept down upon him, he would have 
seen a large ship with tall topsails standing 
along on an easy bowline three or four miles 
southwest of him. After the squall had set in 
the boy had no opportunity to see her, and 
when he was in the water the curtain of driv- 
ing rain shut her out from his view. She was 
a fine old-fashioned vessel with high sides and 
towering poop and forecastle. No second 
glance would have been necessary to tell a 
sailor that she was a line-of-battle ship. The 
military precision of the trim of her yards 
would have been enough, but further evidence 
could have been obtained from the enormous 
hoist of her topsails and the nettings stretched 
from her spritsail yard. A landsman might 
have noted the coach-whip pennant of Captain 
55 


56 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

Robert Barker, and he would certainly have 
understood the meaning of the double row of 
ports that pierced the polished black sides. 
The whole cut and figure of her proclaimed 
that she was an old sevent3^-four gun-ship, 
built long before the advent of steam, and now 
relegated to the duty of coastwise cruising at 
some distance from the centre of the war. The 
Stars and Stripes streamed from her spanker 
peak. She was a brave ship of the old days, 
and across her stern, with a gilded eagle in the 
centre, ran the letters MOHAWK. As she 
stood on her course the officer of the deck. 
Lieutenant Brinley Jordan, a handsome young 
man of thirty, kept his eye on the gathering 
squall, until he deemed it to be time to take 
action. Then he called a messenger and sent 
him to warn the First Lieutenant, Mr. Horace 
Freeman, who at once came on deck. 

“Ah, Jordan,” he said, “a bit of a puff over 
there, eh? Well, sir, it’s a good old rule that 
advocates an ounce of prevention ; so in with 
your flying jib, mainsail and spanker, take in 
the topgallants and clew down the topsails. 
Set the foretopmast staysail and haul down 
the jib.” 

Mr. Jordan gave half a dozen orders and the 
shrfll screaming of the boatswain’s pipe started 


Johnny All at Sea 


57 


a small army of willing arms heaving and haul- 
ing, till the air was full of the rattle of blocks 
and the thunder of slatting canvas. At this 
moment the Captain emerged from his cabin. 
A tall, bronzed seaman, with grizzled side- 
whiskers and a keen, gray eye, was Captain 
Robert Barker, and a single glance was enough 
to inform him of the state of the weather and 
the condition of his ship to meet it. 

“A smooth sea and a white squall make 
naked spars, Mr. Freeman,” he said. 

“Yes, sir,” answered the First Lieutenant; 
“ but I fancy that it’s going to be a short puff, 
though a hard one.” 

“ And here it comes, sir,” said the Captain, 
letting his voice swell into a deep bass roar as 
he called out, “ a hand by the foresheet there. 
Mind your luff, you at the helm, and don’t let 
her get aback.” 

The wind came sweeping across the water, 
changing its glassy surface into dark wrinkles, 
and struck the ship with violence. If she had 
met that blow with such canvas as she had 
been carrying ten minutes earlier, she would 
have lost her topmasts. But now she simply 
careened gracefully, while the blast howled 
hoarsely, but harmlessly through her tense 
cordage. 


58 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

Rain, sir, and a smart bucketful of it,” said 
the First Lieutenant. 

“ But it will not last long, Mr. Freeman,” 
said the Captain ; “ it’s a frisky climate and 
many’s the queer shift of wind I’ve seen along 
this New England coast. Keep her full and 
by, there ! ” 

Full and by, sir,” answered the man at the 
wheel. 

“ As I was saying,” continued the Captain, 
“ I’ve seen the wind and weather cut queer 
capers out this way. I remember, sir, that in 

1851, I was coming down from Hello! 

what’s that ? ” 

A loud shout forward had interrupted the 
Captain at the very beginning of his yarn. 

A man swimming, sir ! ” shouted a petty 
officer who had leaped upon the cat -head. 
“ No, it’s a boy ! ” 

“ Heave a life-buoy 1 ” shouted the Captain, 
springing to the weather-rail and executing his 
own command. “ Keep up there, boy, we’ll 
pick you up ! Let her come up ! Back the fore- 
topsail yard, Mr. Jordan I Call away the sec- 
ond cutter ! ” 

The ship’s spar-deck at once became the 
scene of bustling activity, which to a lands- 
man’s eye would have appeared to be no better 


Johnny All at Sea 


59 


than inextricable confusion. Certain hands 
sprang to let go the forward lee braces and 
others to haul aft the weather braces in order 
that the fore-topsail might be faced against the 
wind, and so check the vessel’s headway. At 
the same time a dozen men were busy casting 
off the stoppers and leading out the falls of the 
second cutter, which swung on the ship’s lee 
quarter. The rattling of blocks and flapping 
of canvas mingled with the pealing of thunder, 
the plash of heavy rain and the hiss of water 
under the Mohawk’s bows to fill the air with 
discordant noises. But in spite of noise and 
confusion the designs of Captain Barker were 
accomplished. The ship came up to the wind 
and her advance was reduced to a minimum, 
while the cutter was ready to be dropped into 
the sea. 

Lower away there ! ” cried the Captain ; 

and pull heartily, lads. Do you see him, Mr. 
Jordan?” 

This question was addressed to the young 
Lieutenant, who had stationed himself at the 
taffrail and was straining his eyes in the at- 
tempt to catch sight of the swimmer. 

‘‘No, sir,” he replied; “yet I’ll be bound 
that he’s less than a quarter of a mile off our 
weather quarter. But the rain hides him, sir.” 


6o The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“How is the boat heading? Toward him, 
do you think?” 

“As nearly as I can judge, sir, she is on the 
right course.” 

“ How on earth does it happen that a boy is 
swimming out here and not a vessel in sight?” 
said the Captain ; “ but he will tell us that him- 
self, if we save him, which God grant we may.” 

“Amen, sir,” said Mr. Jordan. 

The cutter had now disappeared behind the 
gray curtain of the driving rain, and those 
aboard the ship waited with intense anxiety 
for her re-appearance. The weather-rail was 
crowded with the faces of bronzed and griz- 
zled seamen, all of whom were peering intently 
into the gloom. The saving of life on the deep 
never becomes an old story to the sailor. It 
always has a deep thrill for him, because he 
never knows but his turn to be saved may come 
next. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed 
away, and the rain was over. As it became 
thinner and thinner and the horizon widened, 
a shout arose forward. 

“ There she is ! And they’ve got him ! Hur- 
rah ! ” 

The cutter had, indeed, succeeded in finding 
poor Johnny, who had seen the life-buoy, 
reached it and clung to it. As soon as he re- 


I 


Johnny All at Sea 


6i 


covered his breath he began to shout, and his 
cries guided the young officer in charge of 
the cutter to the spot. He was hauled into 
the boat in an exhausted condition. When the 
cutter reached the ship, the boy was at once 
taken to the sick bay and put under the sur- 
geon’s care. That officer reported an hour 
later to the Captain : 

The boy’s all right, sir. He’s young and 
strong and used to the water.” 

'‘I’d like to see him, then,” said Captain 
Barker. 

Johnny was brought to the cabin, where he 
told the Captain how he had gone out sailing 
and been upset in the squall. 

“ And now, if you please, sir,” said the boy, 
“ I’d like to be put ashore at Sancet ; that’s 
where I live.” 

“ I’m sorry, my lad,” said the Captain, “ but 
we are ten miles away from Sancet Harbor 
now, and this ship is under orders to proceed 
with all possible speed to Boston. When we ar- 
rive there. I'll put you ashore at once and you 
can return to your family. Be sure, they’ll be 
mightily glad to see you. But, for the present, 
you must be content to stay where you are.” 

Johnny stood and stared blankly at Captain 
Barker. 


CHAPTER IX 

IN THE SECOND DOG-WATCH 

“You may wander about the ship for the 
present,” said the Captain ; “ Pve no doubt that 
you will find something to interest you. Have 
you ever been aboard a man-of-war before ? ” 
“No, sir,” answered Johnny; “I’ve seen 
ships, but not fighting ships.” 

“Well, you run about. No one will stop 
you. At five o’clock the crew will have supper. 
You report to the officer of the deck and he will 
send you to someone who will give you some- 
thing to eat. To-night we’ll give you a ham- 
mock. Have you ever slept in a hammock ? ” 

“ No, sir, but I’d like to,” answered the boy, 
who was already becoming interested in the 
novelty of his new surroundings. 

“ Do you know anything about sailing ? ” 

“ I can sail a cat-boat, sir.” 

“And get upset in a squall,” said Captain 
Barker, smiling ; “ never mind, my boy, such 
misfortunes happen to older hands than you. 
Here, Meredith ! ” 


62 


In the Second Dog-Watch 63 

“ Aye, aye, sir,” answered a handsome boy in 
the uniform of a sailor, springing forward and 
touching his cap. 

“ Take Master John Rodgers and make him 
acquainted with the Mohawk.” 

“ Aye, aye, sir,” answered Meredith, turning 
to Johnny with a frank smile. “ Come along, 
and we’ll go down below and work up.” 

So saying, Meredith dived down the main 
hatch, followed by Johnny, who found it some- 
what difficult to keep his feet on the steep 
ladders, as the ship was rolling a little. Down 
they went, the light becoming dimmer and 
dimmer, till they were away down in a sort of 
subterranean place, where a single lantern suf- 
ficed to make the black shadows denser. The 
place smelled damp and strange and was full of 
queer, unexpected creaks and cracks, as if ever 
and anon a strained timber had given way. 

“ This is the main hold,” said Meredith, “ and 
out forward are the magazines. You mustn’t 
be taken there, and you can’t see much down 
here, anyhow.” 

“ It’s a very squeaky sort of place,” said 
Johnny. 

“ You ought to hear it in a gale,” said Mere- 
dith, “ why, you’d think the old hooker was 
just going to pieces right off.” 


64 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


“What old hooker?” inquired Johnny. 

“ This one ; that’s one name for a ship,” an- 
swered Meredith, smiling; “I forgot you 
weren’t a sailor. Come up on the berth deck.’’ 

They passed to the deck above, and there 
Johnny saw rows and rows of hammock-hooks, 
where the men slung their swinging beds at 
night. He saw also various rooms, used for 
stores, for petty officers’ quarters, and for nu- 
merous other purposes. A few seamen were 
lying in corners on the hard deck, sound asleep. 

“ Why don’t they swing their hammocks ? ” 
asked Johnny. 

“We’re not allowed to have our hammocks 
during the day,” answered Meredith ; “ they’re 
all stowed in the hammock nettings and are 
not taken out till night, and they’re put back 
in the morning. Come along.” 

They passed up to the lower gun-deck, where 
Johnny saw the great galley-stove and the 
cooks, the sick bay, and other interesting 
things, including the long rows of shining black 
guns, held firmly in place by their breech- 
ings and side tackles. Next they ascended to 
the upper gun-deck, and there Johnny saw the 
great anchor- chains and bitts by which the 
ship rode when her sails were furled. Abaft 
the main-mast he saw several officers sitting at 


In the Second Dog-Watch 65 


their ease on the half deck, as it is called, and 
caught a glimpse through the open door of the 
wardroom — the officers’ quarters. The two 
returned to the spar-deck, where Johnny gazed 
in bewilderment at the maze of sails and rigging. 

“ I don’t believe,” he said, “ that I could 
ever learn the names of all those ropes. Do 
you know them ? ” 

“ Of course,” answered Meredith, with a 
laugh. “ This is the fore clew-garnet, and this 
is the foretops’l clewl’n, and this is the fore- 

tops’l sheet, and this ” 

Oh, wait ! ” cried Johnny. I’ll have to 
learn them one at a time, and I’m afraid I shall 
not manage to do it before we are at Boston.” 

“Well, I should say not!” rejoined Meredith. 
“ It’ll take you a month or two. But hark ! 
there goes the call to spread mess-gear.” 

“ What does that mean ? ” 

“ Set the table. In ten minutes the meal 
call will sound. Why don’t you come and eat 
in our mess ? We’ve a fine set of fellows there.” 

“ I’d like to,” said Johnny ; “ but the Captain 
ordered me to report to the officer of the deck 
at supper-time.” 

“Well, you tell him that you’d like to mess 
with me, and he’ll let you. You’re a visitor 
aboard, you know.” 

5 


66 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

The officer of the deck promptly granted 
Johnny’s request, and in a few minutes the 
boy was seated at a swinging table on the 
lower gun-deck, surrounded by bronzed and 
bearded fellows, who regarded him with curi- 
ous eyes. Here he made his first acquaintance 
with real sailors’ fare, and he was not well 
pleased with it. 

“Your teeth ain’t be’n hardened wi’ chewin’ 
oakum, my son,” said a seaman sitting oppo- 
site to the boy, “ or you’d not pull faces over 
salt horse.” 

“ Well, Porgy,” said Meredith, “ it’s hardlj 
likely that his teeth are as hard as yours or hi^ 
skin, either.” 

The sailor addressed as Porgy shook his 
head solemnly, as he stared at Meredith, and 
he relapsed into silence. 

When the supper was over, most of the men re- 
paired to the forecastle, where they proceeded 
to make merry in sea fashion; for it was a dog- 
watch and a time for recreation. Johnny saw 
the sailor named Porgy sitting on the port side, 
just under the fore rigging, with a very greasy 
old fiddle tucked under his chin. He sawed 
away at the instrument with a sprung bow as 
if he were determined to wear a hole through 
it, and he produced a most amazing series of 


In the Second Dog- Watch 67 

bass groans and treble squeaks, so that one might 
have fancied that two fat old boars were en- 
gaged in a brisk debate over a fresh bucket of 
sour milk. But by industriously wagging his 
head and thumping on the deck with a foot as 
flat and as broad as the model of a ferry-boat, 
Porgy managed to indicate a rhythm, to which 
a powerfully framed colored man and an agile 
young apprentice danced in contrasted styles. 

“ Go it, Scipio ! Bravo, Miss Mittykins ! ” cried 
the observers, while the crimsoning rays of the 
declining sun turned the great white folds of 
canvas above them into crescents of luminous 
pink, and along the forecastle deck made purple 
shadows, among which gleamed, like fiery eyes, 
the red-hot bowls of half a hundred pipes. The 
dance being ended, because “ Miss Mittykins ” 
became exhausted with laughter, a score of 
voices, hoarse with sea-fog, rumbled out a cry : 

“ A song ! Where’s our primy donny ! 
Where’s Ma’m’selle de Calaveras ? ” 

“ Ma’m’selle de Calaveras ” proved to be a 
pretty, pink-cheeked boy of fourteen, who came 
forward laughing and swinging along the deck 
with the sinuous grace of a deep-sea roll. Two 
blue jackets caught him up and stood him on 
a gun-carriage, where he surveyed the assem- 
bly with a merry, loving eye. 


68 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


“ What’ll it be, bullies?” he cried, in a sweet 
musical soprano that promised well for the 
song. 

“ ‘ Tom Bowling ! ’ ‘ Little Cardee ! ’ ‘ Braist- 
ed’s Cruise ! ’ ” 

Voices tossed the names of the songs back 
and forth along the deck in a babel of confu- 
sion till Mile, de Calaveras ” stretched an 
arm out, and in his clear young voice cried : 

Silence, you sand-sharks ! In honor of our 
guest I’ll sing ' Little Cardee.’ Heave ahead, 
Porgy.” 

Porgy scraped out some very doleful groans 
and sighs from the fiddle by way of prelude, 
and then Mile, de Calaveras sang, in a soprano 
voice that would have graced a cathedral : 

“Oh, Little Cardee went down by the sea, 

An’ he looks at the ships and sloops, 

An’ the brigs an’ the barks an’ the werry old arks, 

With admirals on their poops. 

An’ Little Cardee, says he, says he, 

* A sailor I’m a-goin’ to be.’ 

“ So Little Cardee swam out to sea 
An’ hailed the Kangaroo ; 

An’ says to the skipper, a werry old nipper, 

‘ A sailor I’d like to be.’ 

An’ the cap’n o’ the Kangaroo, says he : 

‘ A sailor you’re a-goin’ to be.’ 


In the Second Dog- Watch 


69 


“ An' when Little Card laid out on a yard, 

A-furlin’ the main roy-all, 

He says to himself : ‘ This bloomin’ shelf 
Is not no public hall.’ 

But Little Cardee, says he, says he, 

‘ A sailor I got to be.’ 

“ But by and by the wind blew high. 

An’ the Kangaroo hove to ; 

But the seas broke over that ocean rover, 

An’ the binnacle light turned blue. 

An’ Little Cardee, says he, says he, 

" A-drownded I’m goin’ to be.' 

“ With a jump and a squeak an’ a werry big leak 
She let the water through ; - 

An’ down to the bottom, where the mermaids got ’em, 
Sank the crew of the Kangaroo. 

But Little Cardee, says he, says he, 

‘ A-rescued I’m a-goin’ to be.’ 

“ For he sees a ship with her yards a-dip 
A-comin’ at a lively walk ; 

An’ soon he was gabbin’ in the Capting’s cabin 
O’ the U. S. S. Mohawk. 

An’ Little Cardee was safe an’ free. 

An’ a sailor at last was he.” 

Mile, de Calaveras sang that song with all his 
heart, and when he had finished it the hands 
forward set up a cheer and some of them, seiz- 
ing the young fellow, bore him uproariously 
around the deck on their shoulders. Johnny 


70 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

was much impressed by the song, which seemed 
to have such direct reference to his own case, 
but Meredith assured him that it had been in- 
troduced aboard the Mohawk in her early days 
and was regarded as her especial property. 
But the dog-watch entertainment was not over 
yet. 

“ Where’s Muckles ? Muckles ! ” yelled half 
a dozen voices. “ Come out here and do your 
stunts.” 

“ Muckles ” proved to be a long, lean, lanky 
blue-jacket, who was among the berth-deck 
cooks. He slipped off his shoes, threw aside 
his cap, hitched up his trousers, and, stepping 
forward, saluted the assembly in a style that 
recalled to Johnny’s mind the country circus. 
Then “ Muckles ” went through a clever con- 
tortion act and retired amid great applause. 

“ He does it as well as a circus-man,” said 
Johnny. 

“ He used to be one,” said Meredith, and, 
noting Johnny’s look of surprise, he added, 
“We have all kinds of men in this service. 
One of our forecastle hands was a minister 
once, but he got into some sort of trouble and 
went to sea. You never know who you’re go- 
ing to meet aboard a man-o’-war.” 

The ship’s bugler now came forward and re- 


In the Second Dog- Watch 


71 


cited a pathetic poem with real dramatic effect, 
and a colored man was in the middle of a banjo 
solo, when eight bells struck and the fun came 
to a sudden end. The sun had gone down and 
left a faint glow in the western horizon. In 
the east, the deep blue of the sky was gemmed 
with a few brilliant stars, and the sea ran in 
long wavering lines to the dim horizon. Aloft 
a gentle breeze sang among the tense cordage 
and in the hollows of the white sails, while 
under the ship’s forefoot the ripples poured in 
a gurgling stream. Johnny leaned against a 
gun-carriage gazing at the flowing waves and 
talking in a low tone to Meredith till the shrill 
screaming of a boatswain’s pipe ordered them 
to their hammocks. 

“ I wonder where I shall be this time to-mor- 
row night,” thought Johnny, as the gentle 
swinging of his new bed lulled him into sleep. 


CHAPTER X 

*'AN’ A SAILOR AT LAST WAS HE” 

Once or twice in the course of the night the 
boy was half awakened by the clatter of feet on 
the deck above his head when the watch was 
changed, but most of the time he slept with 
the soundness of weary youth. Johnny was 
not the sort of boy to be greatly upset by his 
surroundings, and when he was really tired he 
could sleep anywhere. But early in the morn- 
ing the bugle sounded the musical tones of the 
reveille, and immediately afterward there was 
a great screeching of boatswains’ pipes, fol- 
lowed by deep voices, shouting : 

Turn out, all hands ! Up all hammocks ! ” 

Johnny sprang upright in his hammock, and 
the next instant found himself flat on the deck, 
while the seamen around him were chuckling 
with laughter. 

“ Never mind,” said Meredith, you’re no 
worse than the rest of them were when they 
first tried it.” 

Meredith then showed him how to roll and 


72 


^*Afi a Sailor at Last Was He'' 73 

lash his hammock with seven turns and the 
clews tucked in, and took him to the proper 
place on the spar-deck to stow it. There 
Johnny saw his newly made acquaintances of 
the dog-watch engaged in stowing their ham- 
mocks, too. Porgy, the fiddler, dropped him 
a friendly nod and said : 

A werry good-mornin’ to you, my son. 
An’ how d’ye sleep in a can was bed ? ” 

Very well, thank you,” replied Johnny. 
Good fur you ! ” said Porgy, emphatically ; 
“it are not no bed o’ roses, but it aren’t too 
hard fur a clean conscience, as the widder used 
to say.” 

“The widow?” repeated Johnny. 

“Yessir, the widder, the werry pertikler 
lady wot had the honor o* bringin’ me up, an’ 
ef I knows ye long ’nuff, some day I’ll tell ye 
’bout her.” 

As Porgy lumbered away, the boy called 
Miss Mittykins, who had danced the night be- 
fore and was standing near Johnny, said : 

“You’ll have to know him a good while then. 
I’ve been shipmates with him two years and 
I’ve never learned the history of the ‘wid- 
der.’ ” 

For an hour Johnny’s attention was absorbed 
by the work that was done on deck. From the 


74 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

knighthead to the taffrail, scores of men were 
at work washing down the vessel. Rigging 
was neatly coiled up and the wash-deck gear 
hung up to dry. Brass-work was rubbed till it 
glowed like fire in the morning sun, and the 
Mohawk generally was made to look like a 
lady who had got up and dressed herself neat- 
ly for the day. The morning was beautifully 
clear, with a fair southerly breeze that drove 
straight over the ship’s taffrail and poured 
along her deck in a cooling torrent. The 
masts were clothed to the royal yards with 
rounded sheets of swelling canvas, out of which 
the wind swirled with a steady murmur. 
Under the forefoot rose a tumbling pile of 
snowy foam that streamed away in ribbons of 
silver on either bow. The Mohawk was reel- 
ing off ten knots an hour to the northward. 
On her port hand, some six or seven miles 
away, lay the land, making a faint yellow bor- 
der to the sea-picture, that filled Johnny’s eyes 
with delight. 

Isn’t it beautiful ? ” he exclaimed to Mere- 
dith. 

“ Oh, it’s fine enough on a fair summer morn- 
ing in a royal breeze,” answered the young 
sailor; “but on a winter night in half a gale 
of wind, with the rigging all iced up and the 


*^An a Sailor at Last Was He'' 75 


topgallant yard jumping under you like a crazy 
horse, it isn’t so very pleasant.” 

A dim vision of the ship staggering with 
naked spars across a wild range of foaming 
cliffs swept through Johnny’s mind ; but it is 
not easy to make a boy see the dark side of 
things when the light side is before his eyes ; 
so he answered : 

Oh, well, I don’t suppose I’ll ever see that, 
and as for you, Meredith, you must be used to 
it.” 

Meredith shrugged his shoulders, turned 
away and went on with his work. For nearly 
two hours the crew was busy making the ves- 
sel clean and setting the rigging to rights. At 
seven o’clock those who had been on watch in 
the night were turned out and the “ six-bell 
hammocks,” as they are called, were stowed. 
At a quarter past seven the master-at-arms, the 
chief petty officer of the ship, inspected the 
servants and boys, and the mate of the berth 
deck reported his deck ready for breakfast. At 
7.20 the officer of the deck ordered the bugler 
to sound “ spread mess-gear,” and in a very 
few minutes all was ready for breakfast, for 
which the call was sounded at 7.30. Johnny 
again sat down to eat with his new-found 
friends, and somehow the lonely boy began to 


76 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


feel strongly drawn toward them. He had 
already learned that they were indeed rough, 
but very frank and straightforward. 

“ They take a fellow for what he is,” thought 
Johnny, “ not for what he has, and there doesn’t 
seem to be any snobbery among them. I sup- 
pose all the dignity here is among the officers.” 

After breakfast the watch on deck was 
changed and Johnny saw a new officer of the 
watch. Ensign Frank Truxton, come on duty. 
This officer sent a messenger forward in search 
of our young friend. Johnny went aft, and, 
pausing beside the mainmast, touched his cap, 
as he had seen the sailors do. 

“Ah, my lad,” said Mr. Truxton, smiling, 
“ you’re becoming quite a man-o’-war’s man al- 
ready.” 

Johnny blushed and shifted from one foot to 
the other uneasily. 

“ Captain Barker has sent word to ask how 
you are,” continued Mr. Truxton, “and whether 
you have been well taken care of.” 

“ No snobbery aft, either,” thought Johnny, 
as he answered, “ I have been very well taken 
care of, sir, and I wish you’d tell the Captain 
how grateful I am to him for his kindness.” 

“ Why, my boy, we have done nothing for 
you that wouldn’t be done aboard any vessel 


a Sailor at Last Was He'' 77 


that might have picked you up, even a mere 
fishing-smack.” 

“ Oh, it makes a good deal of difference how 
a thing is done,” said Johnny. 

“Yes, that’s true enough,” said Mr. Truxton, 
“ but sailors are generally good-natured. Per- 
haps you haven’t had a fair share of kindness.” 

This was said with such gentleness and sym- 
pathy that the little boy launched into a long 
account of his experiences at school and at 
home, which was only interrupted by the sight- 
ing of the point of Cape Cod on the port bow. 
Mr. Truxton sent a messenger to inform the 
Master, Thomas Wilson, who had charge of 
the navigation of the ship, and an orderly to 
tell the Captain. The ship rushed swiftly 
through the blue waters and soon had the 
point well down on her port quarter. Then, at 
a nod from the Master, the officer of the watch 
began to shout orders which were all Greek to 
Johnny, but which set the sailors at work haul- 
ing aft the starboard braces and sheets so as 
to trim the sails to meet the wind, now on the 
port beam. The Master gave the compass 
course to Mr. Truxton and went below. As 
soon as the bustle of activity was over, Johnny 
went forward and joined his forecastle friends. 
The hours passed pleasantly in their company, 


78 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

and when Minot’s Ledge light- house was 
reached, early in the afternoon, and the crew 
began preparations for mooring the ship, the 
boy heaved a long sigh of regret, for he felt 
that he would rather stay among these new 
friends than go back to Sancet and be turned 
out of doors again. Before the Mohawk was 
up with Boston light Captain Barker sent for 
Johnny. 

“ My boy,” he said, “ what do you intend to 
do when you go ashore?” 

‘‘Well, sir,” said Johnny, “I think I can 
work a passage around to Sancet on a coast- 
ing schooner, maybe.” 

“ But why not remain in Boston till you 
hear from your friends ? ” 

“ I don’t think I shall hear, sir.” 

“ Why not? ” 

Johnny then told Captain Barker the whole 
story of his expulsion from school and from his 
guardian’s house. 

“ Well, my boy,” said the Captain, “ the best 
thing you can do is to write to your guardian 
at once. He may have relented by this time 
and will perhaps send for you to go home. Be- 
sides he will only know that you went out in 
the cat-boat and never came back, and he may 
believe that you are dead.” 


a Sailor at Last Was He"' 79 


And then he’d take the money.” 

“ What money ? ” 

Johnny told the Captain about the little fort- 
une left by his father. 

“Well, of course he would take possession 
of your money,” said Captain Barker, “if he 
thought you were dead, but if you came to 
life, he’d be obliged to restore it to you. Still, 
it would save you a lot of trouble to let him 
know that you are safe and well. In the mean- 
time, as we shall probably lie here for two 
weeks, you may make my ship your home till 
you hear from your guardian.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Johnny. 

The boy hastened below and got from Mere- 
dith paper and writing materials. He then sat 
down and wrote to his guardian thus : 

Boston Navy Yard, May 22, 1864. 

Dear Guardian: 

I was rescued by a boat from the Union ship Mohawk and 
was not drowned. Captain Barker will let me live on the 
ship till I hear from you. Maybe you will let me come home 
now. If you will, please send me enough money to pay my 
fare. 

Yours truly, 

John Rodgers. 

P. S. — I cannot apologize to Mr. Durand. 

Johnny added that postscript because he did 


8o The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

not wish his guardian to be under any misap- 
prehension as to the conditions of his returning 
home. As soon as the Mohawk’s anchor was 
down in Boston Harbor, a boat was sent ashore 
with the mail and Johnny’s letter was posted. 
For two weeks, while the Mohawk lay at an- 
chor in Boston Harbor, the boy anxiously 
waited for a letter from his guardian ; but 
none came. In the meantime he was learning 
the names of the different parts of the ship 
and of the spars, ropes, and sails, and their uses 
too, at a pace that would be equalled only by 
a boy. Every day he was present at drills, and 
he was even permitted to go off in the boats, 
so that he knew the meaning of the boat-orders, 
and was getting a pretty thorough acquaint- 
ance with ship routine. At last the day fixed 
for the Mohawk’s departure arrived and John- 
ny was told that he must go ashore. 

“ Oh, what shall I do? ” he said to Meredith, 
I have never been in Boston. I don’t know 
any one there ; I have no money, no friends, 
and nowhere to go. Won’t the Captain let me 
stay ? ” 

“ I don’t see how he can,” answered Mere- 
dith, ‘‘unless ” 

“ Unless what ?” 

“ You enlist.” 


*^An a Sailor at Last Was He'" 8i 


For a moment the novelty of the idea si- 
lenced Johnny. Then he exclaimed : 

“And why not? You’ve all been good to 
me here. I’m not afraid of the sea. And I’d 
like to fight the rebels. I’ll do it ! ” 

So when the Mohawk passed Minot’s Ledge 
light the next day, bound east, Johnny Rod- 
gers, in the blue uniform of a Jack Tar, was 
sitting on the forecastle deck, while Porgy 
Lynn was teaching him how to make a long 
splice. 

6 


CHAPTER XI 

A MORNING WATCH IN THE FORETOP 

“ Where do you suppose we are bound ? " 

“ My son, I don’t never indulge in s’posin’.” 

What do you do ? ” 

Nothin’ as much as I kin’ till some brass- 
mounted orfcer comes ’long an’ orders me to 
do somethin’, an’ then I does it, an’ I does it 
mighty quick.” 

The speakers were Porgy Lynn and Johnny. 
They were seated on the platform at the head 
of the foremast, known as the foretop. It was 
in the early hours of the morning watch, and 
Johnny was delighted at the opportunity to go 
a little way aloft and sit poised in the sweet 
morning air gazing over the brilliant blue sea. 
He had been at work on the forecastle when 
the boatswain’s mate had ordered Porgy to go 
up and relieve the lookout. 

“ There’s two on ’em up there, aint there ? ” 
said Porgy. 

Of course, old blowhard, an’ what’s that to 
you ? ” asked the boatswain’s mate. 

82 


A Morning Watch 


83 


“ Wal, there’s only one o’ me.” 

“ An’ a mighty poor one, too. But you take 
one o’ the boys up there with you.” 

Ef it’s all the same to you,” said Porgy, 
** I’ll take this un here.” 

What! young greeny? All right.” 

And the boatswain’s mate strode away while 
Johnny stood gazing at Porgy in open surprise. 

“ I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Lynn,” he 
said. 

Mister ! I ain’t no mister. Only orfcers is 
misters aboard a man-o’-war.” 

Well, what am I to call you?” 

“ You’re to call me Porgy, same as the wid- 
der did.” 

“ All right,” replied Johnny, laughing, “ Por- 
gy it shall be.” 

“ An’ now, my son,” said the old sailor, I’ll 
trouble you to get up to the foretop.” 

“ Must I go first ? ” asked the boy. 

Sure nuff, else who’s goin’ to catch you ef 
you fall? That’s wot I’m here fur, as the 
widder used to say when the butcher axed her 
to pay his bill. Now then, get your foot on 
this here piece o’ wood across the bottom o’ 
the shrouds, w’ich it’s called the sheer batten, 
an’ you’re to remember that as long as you 
live.” 


84 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

The sheer batten,” repeated Johnny. “All 
right, mist — Porgy, I mean ; I ’ll remember it.” 

“ Now up you go. Here ! Easy’s the word, 
an’ don’t trust so much to the rattlins.” 

Why not ? Aren’t they there to step on ? ” 

“ Yes, but put yer feet closer to the shrouds 
an’ hold by the shrouds with yer ban’s. Oh, 
them rattlins is all right aboard here, ’cos the 
bosun keeps a eye on ’em. But some day you 
might be aboard some ole merchant hooker 
where things ain’t looked arter as they is on a 
fightin’ hooker, an’ then you’d mebbe git a 
bad tumble.” 

Johnny thanked Porgy for his advice and 
ascended the rigging more carefully. Porgy 
showed him how to climb out on the dizzy 
futtock shrouds and so reach the foretop. 

“ Goodness ! ” exclaimed Johnny ; “ what a 
breeze there is up here.” 

It are the back draught out o’ the fore- 
tops’l,” said Porgy. “ Howsumever, it are 
werry comfortin’ on a hot mornin’.” 

The old seaman now took a long, sweeping 
survey of the horizon, and then, settling himself 
comfortably with his back against the mast, 
said : 

“ That are a werry clean prospect, as the 
widder used to remark arter she’d washed my 


A Morning Watch 85 

face, w’ich it were generally not werry clean 
afore she done so.’* 

“ I suppose you’ve been at sea all your life,” 
said Johnny. 

Oh, no,” said Porgy, gravely ; I were a 
babby for sev’ral year, an’ babbies ain’t no sort 
o’ use aboard ship.” 

“ Of course,” rejoined Johnny, with a laugh, 

but I mean after that.” 

“Well, arter I got done bein’ a babby, my 
son, the widder she sent me to school. I 
didn’t larn a great deal, ’ceptin’ one thing, an’ 
I lamed that fust-rate ; an’ that were that I 
didn’t like school.” 

“ A good many boys don’t like school,” said 
Johnny ; “ but it seems that they have to go 
just the same.” 

“ It are a necessary evil,” observed Porgy, 
with much solemnity ; “ that is, it are neces- 
sary to them as lives ashore an’ them as wants 
to be orfcers afloat. But it are wholly unnec- 
essary to them as is goin’ to be just plain 
sailors all their lives. An’ consekently it were 
unnecessary fur me.” 

This sort of philosophy greatly amused 
Johnny, and for some time he sat in silence 
studying the appearance of his queer friend. 
Porgy was short and broad, and his deep 


86 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

chest and wide shoulders betokened immense 
strength. His head was habitually bent for- 
ward, and his keen gray eyes appeared to be 
looking continually upward from beneath his 
shaggy eyebrows. His nose was as round as a 
plum, and was burned to a fiery red by long 
exposure to the sun. He had a fringe of iron- 
gray whiskers under his chin, and it seemed as 
if he must have some inside his throat, too, for 
his voice was always husky. 

And after you decided that school was un- 
necessary for you, Porgy,” continued Johnny, 
“ what did you do ? ” 

I perceded to ship on a coalin’ schooner 
w’ich were said to be bound fur Philadelphy. 
Howsumever, as the widder used to say, 
there’s often a good many kinds o’ weather 
atwixt sunrise an’ dinner-time, an’ the aforesaid 
schooner, ’stead o’ goin’ to Philadelphy, went 
to pieces on a reef wot werry improperly got 
in her way. I were the only survivin’ member 
o’ her crew, an’ bein’ ashore I fell in with a 
sailor an’ so I got another berth. This time I 
were shipped on a whaler bound fur the west 
coast o’ Greenland. Wal, my son, wotever ye 
do, don’t go up there, ’cos it ain’t no sort o’ 
country fur civilized humans. It are only fit 
fur Eskimo dogs an’ pelicans. Our ship got 


A Morning Watch 


87 


caught in the ice an’ were squoze into small 
flinders ; an’ this here pertikler sailor man wot 
you’re a-talkin’ to floated fur seven days on a 
ton o’ ice. An’ it were not no warm weather, 
either.” 

“ And how were you rescued ? ” asked 
Johnny. 

“ Oh, I were rescued all right by a party o’ 
Eskimos wot was out seal-huntin’ an’ thort I 
were a seal till they got close up to me, an’ 
then they took me ashore an’ fed me on fat an’ 
fried taller candles an’ sich things. Oh, I’ve 
had lots o’ fun at sea.” 

What’s that ? Isn’t that a sail ? ” suddenly 
asked Johnny, pointing at a tiny white speck 
on the horizon. 

“ Yes, it surely are,” answered Porgy. “ Sing 
it out, my lad ; you seed it, you know.” 

“ Must I ? ” 

“ O’ course. Wot else you up here fur ? ” 

Sail ho-0-0 ! ” cried Johnny, in a clear, high 
voice. 

Where away ? ” came the short, sharp de- 
mand from the deck. Johnny was taken by 
surprise, and, before he thought of consulting 
Porgy, he answered : 

“ Oh — oh — it’s very far away, sir.” 

The burst of suppressed laughter that rose 


88 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

from the forecastle showed Johnny that he had 
made a blunder, and he looked appealingly at 
Porgy, who whispered to him. 

“Two points off the weather bow, I mean, 
sir,” called Johnny. 

“ Who’s up there with you?’’ demanded the 
officer of the watch. 

“ Lynn, sir,’’ answered Porgy. 

“ Well, you keep an eye on that sail, and let 
me know what you make of it.’’ 

“ Aye, aye, sir,” answered Porgy, relapsing 
into silence. 

Johnny sat and held his peace for half an 
hour, when suddenly Porgy said : 

“You ain’t never rightly explained to mq 
why you runned away to sea, my son.” 

“ I didn’t intend to run away to sea, Porgy. 
In fact I never had any idea of going to sea 
when I left home — that is, my guardian’s 
house.” 

Johnny then told Porgy for the first time the 
history of the little smoking-party in his room 
at the Tuzo High School, with all the subse- 
quent developments. 

“ An’ so here you are, a ’prentice on one o’ 
Uncle Sam’s wessels, a-standin’ your fust morn- 
in’ watch in the foretop, an’ all ’cos you wasn’t 
a good hand at makin’ apolergies, eh ? Wal, as 


A Morning Watch 89 

the widder used to say, I like grit s' long as 
’tain’t in sugar.” 

“Thank you, Porgy,” said Johnny; “but I 
must admit that if I could get possession of my 
money. I’d not be here.” 

“ How much money are it?” 

“ That’s what I don’t know.” 

“ Don’t any one know ’ceptin’ your guardian ? ” 

“Yes, the president and the cashier of the 
Sancet Bank must know, because that’s where 
it was put.” 

“ Wal, I s’pose them’s honest men.” 

“ Yes, I suppose so.” 

“ Then I reckon, as long as your guardeen’s 
been told you’re alive, them fellers won’t let 
him rob you.” 

“ I think you must be right about that, 
Porgy,” said Johnny, hopefully ; “ and when I 
am of age I’ll be able to get my money.” 

“ ’Less your guardeen does one thing.” 

“ And what’s that ? ” 

“ Never show nobody the letter wot you writ 
from Boston.” 

“That would be bad,” said Johnny, thought- 
fully. “ Every one would think I was drowned 
then.” 

“Yes, an’ your guardeen would take posses- 
sion o’ the money, and ef you was to go back 


90 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

to Sancet, you’d have to prove, fust of all, that 
you was really John Rodgers an’ hadn’t never 
been dead at all.” 

‘‘ Perhaps I could even do that, though,” 
said Johnny. “ The officers and crew of this 
ship could all testify to picking me up off San- 
cet, and to my telling them my story, and the 

Captain knows about the letter and ” 

‘‘Yes,” interrupted Porgy, “an’ we’re just 
a-goin’ off on a cruise, an’ it are war-time ; an’ 
mebbe most on us’ll never come back, an’ by 
the time the war are over we may be all dead 
or scattered. I reckon I wouldn’t count too 
much on gettin’ that there money, ef I was 
you. You got a good berth here. In a few 
months you’ll be an ord’nary seaman, an* arter 

that you’ll get to be an A. B. an’ ” 

“ What’s an A. B. ? ” 

“ Able-bodied seaman, my son.” 

“ Well, Porgy, I suppose I’m here and I 
must make the best of it. I mean to work 
hard and get ahead in this business as fast as 
I can, for I like the sea and ships. But if 
you think I’m going to give up all hope of 
getting my money, you just don’t know me, 
that’s all.” 

“ Bully for you, my lad ! ” exclaimed Porgy. 
“ That’s the sort o’ talk I like.” 


A Morning Watch 


91 


At that moment the clear musical chime of 
the forecastle bell rang out the four double 
strokes that told the close of the watch, and 
the next instant the boy known as Miss Mitty- 
kins sprang lightly into the foretop, followed 
at a more deliberate pace by the powerful 
negro, Scipio. 

“ We’re your relief,” said Miss Mittykins. 

“ Then down we goes,” said Porgy. 

“Mayn’t I stay up here awhile?” asked 
Johnny. 

“Yes, I s’pose so,” said Porgy. “It’s your 
watch below ; but I guess it’s all right.” 

And Johnny stayed on in the foretop, be- 
cause he liked Miss Mittykins. 


CHAPTER XII 
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 

What do you make of that sail, Mitty- 
kins ? ” said Johnny. 

“ Miss ” Mittykins gravely turned his eyes 
in the direction indicated just in time to detect 
a column of light-blue smoke. 

“ I don’t quite know,” he said, shaking his 
tangled hair ; “ what do you think, Scip ? ” 

“ Smoke’s putty light,” said Scip, letting his 
voice swell into a roar of Steamer on the 
weather-bow ! ” 

‘‘ Is that the sail that was reported half an 
hour ago ? ” asked the officer of the deck. 

“ Yes, sah.” 

“ Keep a close watch on it.” 

“ Aye, aye, sah ! ” 

“ What do you think about it, Scipio ?” 

“ I dunno ’zackly, chile, but she mought be 
one o’ dem Johnnies.” 

“Johnnies? What are they ?” asked Johnny, 
in surprise. 

“Johnny Rebs, chile. You’ll done know ’em 

92 


An Unexpected Meeting 93 

’fore you sarb yo’ time out, suah. Umph- 
umph ! ” exclaimed Scipio, shaking his head 
and rolling his eyes most expressively. 

She’s coming down on us pretty fast under 
steam and sail,” said Miss Mittykins. 

“ An’ I don’ like de set o’ dem r’yal yards 
a bit,” muttered Scipio, and he once more 
shouted : 

“ On deck, dar ! ” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“She’s a-risin’ fast, sah, undah steam an’ 
sail.” 

“ Very good. I see her plainly now.” 

Another half-hour passed and the strange 
ship was not more than eight miles away. 
Captain Barker and Mr. Freeman had come on 
deck and were gazing earnestly at the stranger. 

“ I'm afraid there’s no doubt about her. Free- 
man,” said the Captain. “ I wish it would 
breeze up a little more.” 

“This breeze would do, sir, if we could bring 
it a little more abeam.” 

“ True enough. Mr. Wilson.” 

“ Sir,” answered the Master, who was close 
at hand. 

“Can’t we let her off a point and put the 
royals on her? ” 

“ That will bring us very close aboard the 


94 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

cape, sir, but with that fellow out yonder, I 
think we may risk it.” 

“ Ease your helm there,” said the Captain to 
the man at the wheel, while the Master shouted : 

Overhaul the lee braces! Aloft and loose 
the royals ! Clear away the flying jib ! Let 
fall ! Sheet home and hoist away 1 ” 

For a few minutes there was a rush of ac- 
tivity aloft, and then, as the Mohawk’s head fell 
off and her newly spread canvas filled with the 
breeze, she heeled a trifle more and began to 
hurl silvery spouts of spray from her forefoot. 

“Let me know her speed, Mr. Wilson,” said 
the Captain. 

The log was hove and the ship was found to 
be making ten knots an hour. 

“ I don’t think yonder fellow can catch us 
before we get the cover of the cape, if the 
wind holds,” said the Captain. 

“ It looks likely to freshen a bit, I think, sir,” 
said Mr. Freeman. 

The three watchers in the foretop were silent 
for a quarter of an hour, and then Scipio began 
to shake with laughter. 

“ What’s the matter with you, Scip ? ” de- 
manded Miss Mittykins. 

“ De high golly ! ” exclaimed the negro, “ ef 
de ole Mohawk don’ clean run away f’m ’er ! ” 


An Unexpected Meeting 95 

'' Well,” said Johnny, “ I don’t see why we 
don’t wait for her and fight her. Isn’t that our 
business? ” 

“ Not alius, chile ; not alius,” replied Scipio. 
“ ’Times it’s ouah business to go on ’tendin’ to 
ouah business an’ not get inter trouble wid folks 
wot’s suah to lick us, an’ dis hyah’s one o’ dem 
dar times, chile, ’deed it is. Umph-umph ! ” 

The breeze is freshening,” said Miss Mitty- 
kins, taking off his cap and letting the air play 
with his curls. 

Dat’s wot’s de mattah ! ” exclaimed Scipio, 
hugging himself in delight. 

I don’t think we ought to run away,” said 
Johnny. 

“Yo’ know bettah *n dat some day, chile. 
’Sides, I reckin yo’ done git all the fight yo’ 
want yit.” 

The rebel ship was now plainly falling astern 
and the Mohawk bounded across the white- 
crested ridges like the stanch old sailing ves- 
sel that she was. It was two days later, how- 
ever, when the sweet, clear voice of Mile, de 
Calaveras was heard floating down from the 
foretop : 

Land ho-0-0 ! ” 

Hampton Roads was the scene of some des- 
perate fighting in the early days of the war, 


96 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

when the mail-clad Merrimac had hurled terror 
and destruction upon the North Atlantic 
Blockading Squadron until the “ cheese-box on 
a raft,” the famous Monitor, stole around the 
capes and changed the whole nature of modern 
sea-fighting. But in 1864, when the Mohawk 
sailed in from the Atlantic, the Roads were as 
peaceful as they are to-day. The Union fleet 
was at work farther down the coast and only 
a small squadron of four or five unimportant 
vessels was lying at anchor under the guns of 
Fort Monroe. 

“ I wonder what we’re here for,” said Johnny, 
as he leaned against the rail and gazed at the 
fresh green of the shores. 

“ I don’t know any more than you do,’’ said 
Meredith, who was at his side ; “ but the Cap- 
tain has gone to call on the senior officer of the 
fleet, and we’ll soon know a thing or two.” 

“ I’d like to go ashore,” said Johnny. 

“ Poor chance of that,” said Meredith, “ un- 
less we are to take on stores here, and then you 
may get more shore-work than you wish for.” 

“ Here comes the boat back,” exclaimed 
Johnny. 

The Captain’s gig, urged by eight brawny 
seamen, was dancing across the shifting wind- 
rows of the harbor at a merry speed. The 


An Unexpected Meeting 97 

moment she reached the foot of the accommo- 
dation ladder Captain Barker sprang to the 
deck and sent for his First Lieutenant. Ten 
minutes later Mr. Freeman emerged from the 
Captain’s cabin and gave an order to the offi- 
cer of the deck. The next minute the ship re- 
sounded with the screeching of the boatswain’s 
pipe and the hoarse order : 

“ Away all boats ! ” 

“ That’s what I suspected,” said Meredith, as 
he sprang to his station. Aboard the Mohawk 
one of the whale-boats had been assigned to 
the younger apprentices with an old hand as 
stroke, so that Johnny, Meredith, Mile, de Ca- 
laveras, Miss Mittykins, and Porgy, by using a 
little influence with the boatswain, found them- 
selves billeted together. 

“Are we going to get stores?” asked John- 
ny, as he cast off the forward stopper. 

“That’s what it is,” answered Mile, de Cala- 
veras, who was in the bow. 

“ Then we’ll get a chance to stretch our legs 
ashore.” 

“ Yes, but I don’t care about that. The deck 
of a ship is world enough for me.” 

“ How long have you been at sea? ” 

“Ever since I was born, I think,” answered 
Mile, de Calaveras, with a grave smile. 

7 


98 The Last Crtiise of the Mohawk 

“ Stand by to lower away ! ” exclaimed 
Porgy, gruffly. 

“ Growl, you old bear ; but you won’t bite,” 
said Miss Mittykins, laughing. 

The whale-boat was quickly lowered, and the 
young midshipman, George Crewes, who com- 
manded her, gave the orders that set the five 
willing backs swinging in rhythmic unison. 
The whale-boat fell into her proper place in the 
column of boats, and after five minutes of 
smart pulling ran alongside the wharf. 

“ Rodgers, boat-keeper,” said Mr. Crewes, 
sharply. “ Tumble out the rest of you.” 

Johnny, left alone in the boat, rubbed his 
arms as he said to himself : 

** I don’t see why they make the oars so long 
and heavy. I’m used to rowing, but not with 
such beams.” 

‘^Now, then,” called Porgy, from the wharf 
above, stand by to take this ’ere stuff an’ put 
it where I tells you.” 

The other members of the crew came down 
the wharf with bags and small boxes, which 
were passed down to Johnny and stowed by 
him as directed by Porgy. The crews of the 
other boats were all engaged in similar labor. 
As soon as a boat was loaded, she pulled off to 
the ship, put her cargo aboard, and returned. 


An Unexpected Meeting 99 

Johnny did not find it easy work, and he was 
unable to see just how he was to get an oppor- 
tunity to go ashore, though he was certainly 
stretching his limbs to his heart’s content. For 
five hours, except at dinner-time, the crew la- 
bored like a lot of pack-horses, and Johnny de- 
cided, without any hesitation whatever, that a 
sailor’s life was not what the authors of sea- 
stories made it out to be. But when the last 
load of stores had gone into the whale-boat. 
Midshipman Crewes said : 

Lynn, you’re not a boy ; you sit in the boat 
and smoke a pipe, while these youngsters spend 
ten minutes ashore.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Meredith, speaking 
for the crew. Come along, boys.” 

The four young sailors ran along the wharf to 
the shore, the graceful and agile Mile, de Cala- 
veras leading the way. Their time was short 
enough, to be sure,-but they enjoyed every min- 
ute of it. 

“How good the grass smells!” exclaimed 
Johnny. 

“ It isn’t bad, is it ? ” exclaimed Miss Mitty- 
kins, lying down and rolling over in it. 

“ Oh, it’s good once in awhile for a change,” 
said Mile, de Calaveras. “ But I like the smell 
of the sea*weed better.” 


lOO The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Oh, there’s something wrong about you ! ” 
exclaimed Meredith. 

“ Hello ! There goes the call,” said Miss 
Mittykins. Come on, I’ll beat you all back to 
the boat.” 

Away the four boys went as fast as their 
nimble legs would carry them, dodging sail- 
ors, soldiers, marines, and landsmen who were 
crowding the pier. Johnny was last in the 
race, and just as he reached the end of the 
wharf he ran into a tall young man in the uni- 
form of a marine. With his hand still on the 
string-piece of the pier and his feet in the boat, 
Johnny turned to utter a hasty apology, but in- 
stead stared blankly into the marine’s face 
until sharply ordered to sit down in the boat. 

The marine was Morton Brewer. 


CHAPTER XIII 
DRILLING A MARINE 

Johnny mechanically took his place in the 
boat and obeyed orders. But his mind was in 
a whirl of amazement, and just as soon as he 
was aboard the ship and had an opportunity 
to talk he unburdened himself to his friends. 

“ Did you see a marine standing on the end 
of the pier ? ” he said. 

** I didn' see no marines,’* said Porgy ; ** I 
never sees ’em ’cos they ain’t worth seein’.” 

** I saw him,” said Miss Mittykins. 

*^And so did I,” said Meredith. “ You ran 
into him.” 

Yes, and I don’t know what to make of it.” 

** Why, what do you mean ? ” asked Mere- 
dith. 

** It was the son of my guardian ; it was 
Morton Brewer,” said Johnny. 

“ Whew ! ” exclaimed Meredith and Mitty- 
kins. 

** Them as goes to sea,” said Porgy, solemnly, 
“ is bound to meet the onexpected.” 

lOI 


102 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ But I wonder what he’s doing here,” ex- 
claimed Johnny, “and how on earth did he 
come to be a marine?” 

“ Them is questions,” said Porgy, “ w’ich 
can’t be answered at present, as the widder 
said w’en they axed her how old she were.” 

“ Oh, blow the widow ! ” exclaimed Miss 
Mittykins. “Johnny will find out all about it 
some day, and so what’s the use of worrying 
now ? ” 

They were all destined to learn the facts 
much sooner than they dreamed of, for the fol- 
lowing morning, just before it was time for the 
Mohawk to get under way, a shore-boat came 
off with six marines, needed to make up the 
ship’s complement, and one of them was Mor- 
ton Brewer. Johnny saw him come aboard 
and go below, but had no opportunity to speak 
to him, for almost immediately the boatswain 
piped all hands to get the ship under way, and 
the boy hastened to his station. 

“ Man the bars; heave round ! ’Vast heav- 
ing ! Aloft sail-loosers ! Lay out and loose ! 
Man topsail sheets and halyards! Let fall! 
Sheet home ! ” 

Mr. Freeman’s orders rang out from the 
quarter deck, and in a very short time the ship 
was at short cable with her topsails set. Then 


Drilling a Marine 


103 


the yards were braced sharp up, the anchor 
weighed, and the jib and flying jib run up. The 
Mohawk’s head fell off and, her sails filling, she 
stood for the sea close-hauled on the port tack. 
A fine sailing-breeze was blowing and the top- 
gallants were set at once. The ship rushed 
forward, gallantly shouldering the short green 
seas, and the crew settled down for a short in- 
terval of rest. It was then that Morton Brewer 
came on deck with his hands in his pockets 
and a pipe in his mouth and stared complac- 
ently about him. He had no fear of sea-sick- 
ness, for he was accustomed to the water. 
Presently he caught sight of Johnny and ap- 
proached him. He took a calm look at the 
boy, blew a cloud of smoke into his face, and 
said: 

“ I thought it was you that ran into me on 
the pier.” 

“Yes,” said Johnny, “and I suppose you 
must have been almost as much surprised as I 
was.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” said Morton. “ I never 
supposed you were drowned, though father 
did. I knew you weren’t good enough to 
drown.” 

“ But didn’t he get my letter from Boston?” 

“Letter? I never heard of any letter.” 


104 Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

I wrote him one/’ said Johnny, thinking 
that after all Porgy was right in supposing 
that his guardian would conceal the letter. 

But, Morton, how comes it that you are here, 
as a marine, too ? ” 

I don’t know that I’m under any obligation 
to explain my conduct to a common sailor,” 
replied Morton, superciliously. 

Both Porgy and Mile, de Calaveras had ap- 
proached near enough to hear this last speech. 
Now if there is one human being that a sailor 
regards with contempt, it is a marine. So 
when Porgy heard Morton’s words, he was 
simply speechless with amazement. But Mile, 
de Calaveras walked up to Morton, looked up 
into his face and burst into a silvery peal of 
laughter. 

“ What are you laughing at, you young 
monkey ? ” exclaimed Morton, angrily. “ I’ll 
teach you better manners.” 

Porgy Lynn, with blazing eyes, strode for- 
ward and, laying the grip of a vice upon Mor- 
ton’s shoulder, said : 

** Young man, I reckon you’re putty ig- 
ner’nt ; but don’t you go fur to lay your 
han’s on any boy aboard o’ this ’ere ship, or 
you’ll git some teachin’ wot’ll make your ribs 
sore.” 


Drilling a Marine 105 

Morton looked at the powerful frame of the 
sailor, and deemed it best not to make any 
reply ; but as soon as Porgy released him, he 
walked sullenly away. 

“ That there youngster are a-goin’ to travel 
a hard road here,” said Porgy. 

Don’t be too hard on him,” said Johnny, 
“ he doesn’t know any better.” 

“ I’m afraid he’ll have to learn,” said Mile, 
de Calaveras. “ Landsmen all have to go to 
school out here.” 

The Mohawk was far out at sea, with a soft 
breeze on her port quarter, when the dog- 
watches came around that day. Skylarking 
was of a very moderate kind, for the ship was 
off the enemy’s coast now, and might at any 
moment fall in with a foe. Yet after supper 
Johnny’s friends and several other seamen 
who had noted the airy manner of young 
Brewer determined to give him a lesson, and 
as he was about to go on deck, Scipio touched 
him on the shoulder. 

“Ah bin ’p’inted to gib yo’ some ’struc- 
tions,” he said. 

“ Take your hand off,” said Morton, “ I 
don’t take instructions from a nigger.” 

“Yo’ done gwine ter take ’em from dis 
niggah, suah,” said Scipio. 


io6 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

Nigger!” exclaimed Meredith, who was at 
hand ; we don’t like such words here.” 

“ I don’t care what you common sailors like,” 
retorted Morton. 

“ An’ we don’ care wot de marines like,” ex- 
claimed Scipio, seizing him by the collar and 
running him forward, where he suddenly found 
himself in the middle of a circle of seamen. 
They were seated on the deck, most of them 
smoking their black pipes, and they gazed at 
him gravely as he struggled helplessly in the 
powerful grasp of the negro. 

“ Him done call me niggah I ” said Scipio. 

“ Then the cullud barbers ort to shave him,” 
remarked a seaman. 

‘‘ Aye, aye ! ” cried the men. 

In a few seconds, despite his struggles, Mor- 
ton had been seized by Scipio and three other 
colored sailors and firmly bound. They seated 
him on a chest and Scipio solemnly lathered 
his face with a whitewash brush and a bucket 
containing a mixture of sour paste, soft soap, 
and salt water. He applied the lather vigor- 
ously and rubbed it in with no gentle touch, 
while the sailors shook with laughter. Next 
Scipio drew his jackknife and proceeded to 
scrape the lather off, every stroke of the rude 
razor drawing forth a groan of protest from 


Drilling^a Marine 107 

the helpless Morton. Having finished this 
operation, Scipio, with a serious face and an air 
of mock deference, said : 

“ Shampoo, sah? ” 

“ No, thank you,” answered Morton, rather 
meekly. 

“ Please don’t let them do anything more to 
him,” whispered Johnny to Mile, de Calaveras, 
who sat beside him. 

“ I wouldn’t interfere for the ship’s pay,” re- 
plied the boy, airily. “ He must learn.” 

“ Porgy,” pleaded Johnny, “ let him off now. 
It’s awful nasty, you know.” 

Porgy stood up and raised his hand. There 
was a cessation of activities and all were silent. 

“ Gen’lemen o’ the port watch seamen’s pro- 
tective association,” he began. “ I reckon this 
'ere young cross atween a soldier an’ a gale o’ 
wind are larnt his fust lesson, w’ich are respect 
fur them as doesn’t wear brass buttons an’ does 
know the difference atwixt a frigate an’ a freight- 
car. I move as how we now lets him off with 
the warnin’ that fu’ther ignerance on his part 
will call fur fu’ther teachin,’ and the lessons 
don’t get no easier as ye go ahead in the book. 
But afore we does let him off, I move that he’s 
requested fur to tell us how he came to be a 
marine ? ” 


io8 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


‘‘ Aye, aye ! Good ! Good ! ” 

Morton looked for an avenue of escape, but 
he was still bound and helpless. 

“Well,’' he said, “ if you must know, the day 
after Johnny Rodgers was kicked out of the 
Tuzo School ” 

“ Requested to leave, my son, you mean,” 
said Miss Mittykins, while the sailors burst 
into roars of laughter. 

“ Well, if you like it that way,” growled 
Morton ; “requested to leave, the fellows acted 
so nasty to me that I punched Barney Free’s 
head. While I was doing it, old Durand came 
up and tried to pull us apart. I was so mad 
that I hit him and knocked him down. He 
stayed down and I found he was badly hurt in 
falling. I skipped for home and told the old 
man, and he turned sour on me and said he’d 
give me up to the police. So I ran away, went 
to New York and enlisted.” 

“ But wot made you ’list in the marines ? ” 
demanded Porgy. 

“ I didn’t know I was enlisting in a sea-regi- 
ment. I just went into the first recruiting 
place I saw ; and a sweet mess I made of it.” 

“I dunno about that,” said Porgy. “You 
jist remember that we don’t allow no callin’ 
ugly names, an’ we don’t want no high airs 


Drilling a Marine 109 

from any bloomin’ marines, an’ pertiklerly we 
don’t intend to let you make this ’ere ship on- 
pleasant fur this ’ere boy, John Rodgers. 
You remember all them things, an’ as the wid- 
der used to say, you won’t find no salt in your 
bed in this ’ere world.” 

If it hadn’t been for John Rodgers,” ex- 
claimed Morton, “ I’d have been at school yet.” 

“ And if it hadn’t been for you, Morton,” said 
Johnny, calmly, I certainly should have been 
there.” 

“ That’s it,” said Porgy, you’re quits, an’ 
mind you let that boy alone an’ generally an’ 
pertiklerly mind your own business. Untie 
him.” 

I’ll complain to the Captain about this bus- 
iness,” said Morton, as he stretched his limbs 
once more. 

I wish you would,” said Mlle.de Calaveras, 
with so much meaning that Morton walked si- 
lently away. 


CHAPTER XIV 

OFF MOBILE BAY 

‘‘Where are we going?” asked Johnny of 
Mile, de Calaveras the next morning as they 
were coiling down some running rigging in 
the morning watch. 

“ I don’t know,” answered Mile, de Cala- 
veras, gazing out over the sea with dancing, 
happy eyes. “ I never know ; I never care. 
As long as we are under way and at sea 1 am 
happy.” 

Johnny hardly comprehended the nature of 
this strange boy, so much like a graceful girl 
in face and movement, and yet so agile, strong 
and manly in body and so brave and cheerful 
in spirit. 

“ Where were you born? ” asked Johnny. 

“ Out yonder somewhere,” answered the boy, 
pointing toward the eastern horizon. 

“ At sea ? ” 

“Yes, at sea, aboard the ship Calaveras. 
And that’s where they found me when the 
cowardly crew of Lascars had abandoned the 

IIO 


Ill 


Off Mobile Bay 

vessel after a storm, and left my poor mother 
aboard to sink with me in her arms. But the 
Calaveras floated, water-logged, and my mother 
died for want of drink. But I was saved by 
the Mohawk. And here I have lived ever 
since.” 

‘‘ What ! A baby aboard a man-o’-war ? ” 

“ Yes, and the dearest and best and kindest 
nurses in the world are those lads there. 
They’ve been all the mother I’ve ever known, 
and the ship was my cradle.” 

“ But you don’t talk as they do.” 

The ship’s schoolmaster and some of the 
midshipmen educated me. But there — don’t 
let us talk about me any more. I’ve told you 
a good deal because — because you’re an honest 
boy.” 

Mile, de Calaveras gave Johnny a gentle, 
loving look and then went on with his work in 
silence. 


The August sun was beating down upon the 
shimmering blue sea with pitiless rays that 
were tempered only by the soft breathing of a 
light northeasterly breeze. The Mohawk was 
sweeping majestically southward and west- 
ward, clothed to her trucks with snow-white 


1 1 2 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


canvas, spreading far out over her rails on the 
lean arms of the studding-sail booms and rising 
between her masts in the spherical triangles of 
the swelling stay-sails. Light as the wind was, 
it drove the well-modelled fabric forward at 
the rate of six knots an hour, and kept the 
white mounds of foam singing merrily under 
her iron-shod forefoot. The deck gleamed a 
golden yellow in the gorgeous sunlight, the 
brass-work sparkled like gold in the mint, and 
the brown chases of the bulbous guns glittered 
joyously in the square ports. There was little 
work to do, for it was a fair wind and a long 
watch and the jib-boom pointing the course. 
The officer of the deck paced slowly up and 
down in the grateful shade of the mainsail. 
The Captain and the Master were sitting on the 
poop in earnest conversation. Forward, half 
a hundred bronzed and grizzled sea - dogs 
sprawled about the deck at odd jobs of mend- 
ing clothing or splicing lines. Before the 
cabin-door, a marine stood like a graven image, 
save that he gently swayed with the long, slow 
roll of the ship. But despite all this seeming 
ease, aloft were double lookouts, keenly alert, 
for they watched for the man-o’-war’s two 
worst foes — the enemy and the land. 

“ I’d just give a fair dollar to know where 


Off Mobile Bay 1 13 

we*re going,” said Johnny, who was lying at 
full length on the forecastle deck. 

I think I’ve heard you say that before,” 
said Meredith, with a laugh. 

‘‘What does it matter so long as we go?” 
asked Mile, de Calaveras, who was lying on 
his back and gazing dreamily up among the 
dazzling arches of the creamy canvas. “ It is 
when the ship lies at anchor, with a bit in her 
teeth and the four walls of a harbor-prison 
around her, that I grow weary ; but never out 
here where there are no boundaries and no 
rest.” 

“ Don’t mind him,” whispered Meredith ; 
“ he talks like a ghost sometimes.” 

“ But,” protested Johnny, “ suppose we are 
going to fight ? ” 

“ We fight the gales sometimes,” said Mile, de 
Calaveras, “and I like that well enough. But 
the other — that is full of blood. Ugh ! I shall 
not like that.” 

“ Do you think he’ll show the white feather ? ” 
whispered Johnny. 

“ He ! ” answered Meredith. “ Never ! He’s 
absolutely ignorant of the meaning of fear. I 
don’t understand him, with his baby face, his 
girl’s form, and his queer talk. But I know 

he’s strong and brave and true, and I ” 

8 


1 14 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

‘^Land ho!” came the hoarse call from the 
foretop, and with a simultaneous spring all 
hands were on their feet. 

“ Where away ? ” cried Mr. Truxton. 

“ Dead ahead, sir.” 

“ It’s too early for us to be running in with 
the land, isn’t it ? ” asked the Captain. 

“No, sir; no,” answered Master Thomas 
Wilson, “ there’s naught to fear off the mouth 
of Jupiter Inlet, and I doubt much whether we 
should find the light burning at night.” 

“ True, true,” said the Captain, “ I sometimes 
forget that these shores are now an enemy’s. 
Ah me, Mr. Wilson, what will be the end of 
this war of a nation against itself ? ” 

“ I doubt not, sir,” said the Master, “ that it 
is for some wise purpose that we poor mortals 
cannot see, and that when it is all over, our 
country will be better and stronger than ever 
before.” 

“Well said, Wilson. Yes, I do believe the 
matter is in God’s hands. Mr. Truxton.” 

“Sir?” 

“ Keep her as she goes till you get the light- 
house well raised, and then Mr. Wilson will 
change the course.” 

“ Aye, aye, sir.” 

This conversation was not heard by the men 


Off Mobile Bay 1 1 5 

forward, but an old seaman who came down 
from aloft expressed his opinion. 

“We be*n a-sailin’ about sou’-sou’west since 
we left Hatteras, an’ ef that ain’t the Floridy 
coast, why blow me ! ” 

That was an anxious night, for the ship en- 
tered the Florida channel, studded with reefs, 
besieged by a restless and vicious current, and 
too narrow to admit of far flight in case of an 
enemy’s appearance. 

“We’re bound fur the Gulf,” said Porgy 
Lynn ; “ that are plainer’n the mole on the wid- 
der’s cheek, an’ that war putty bloomin’ plain, 
too, an’ ye didn’t need no chart to locate it. 
But s’posin’ we are bound inter the Gulf, wot 
then? D’ye know any more’n ye did afore? 
I reckon not. ’Cos w’y : mebbe ye’re goin’ to 
Noo Orleens, an’ mebbe ye ain’t. An’ ye can’t 
tell nothin’ ’bout it nohow, as the widder said 
w’en they axed her would she ever get married 
ag’in.” 

The Mohawk slowly and steadily threaded 
her way through the channel and at length 
was clear of the westerly end of the Tortugas. 

“ An’ now, by the great hook block ! ” ex- 
claimed Porgy Lynn, “ I know where we’re 
a-goin’ ! ” 

“ Where ? ” asked all the boys. 


ii6 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

The course are nor’-nor’west, an' that 
means Mobile.” 

“ But Mobile is a rebel port,” objected Miss 
Mittykins. 

“ Wal, wal!” exclaimed Porgy, “you’re most 
as knowin’ as the widder’s cat, wot’d alius 
look fur milk w’en she seed a saucer on the 
floor.” 

“ But it is a rebel port,” said Meredith. 

“ An’ do that signify that it are alius goin’ to 
be one?” demanded Porgy. 

“Why, you old shellback!” exclaimed Mere- 
dith, “ you don’t suppose the skipper’s going 
to try to take the town with the Mohawk, do 
you ? ” 

“ Wal, he might help to do it, mightn’t he ? ” 

“ That’s true. Maybe we’re going to join a 
fleet there.” 

“Wot fur d’ye s’pose we got that there car- 
go o’ stores fur in the Roads?” 

“ That’s it 1 ” exclaimed Miss Mittykins, 
dancing about delightedly. “We’re to join a 
fleet there, an’ then there’ll be a regular old 
shindy ! ” 

“ And blood. Ugh ! ” muttered Mile, de Ca- 
laveras. 

Strange thrills began to run through Johnny, 
and he wondered if he were going to prove a 


Off Mobile Bay 117 

coward. The days seemed doubly long now 
that all hands were on the tiptoe of expecta- 
tion. The blue waters of the Gulf were hun- 
grily scanned for a sign of land, and when at 
length the lookout gave the expected warning, 
the whole ship’s company assembled on deck. 
Slowly the Mohawk drew in toward the coast, 
and at length her people began to make out a 
small cluster of masts. Night was closing in 
when these were descried, and presently a 
twinkling light was seen describing graceful 
curves aboard one of the ships. A signalman 
on the Mohawk answered, and then orders to 
shorten sail were given. An hour later the 
ship dropped anchor outside the fleet and im- 
mediately the order was given to lower away 
the boats and break out the stores. At the 
same instant a swift barge shot up alongside 
the accommodation ladder, and a spruce lieu- 
tenant sprang aboard the Mohawk. 

“ You are come just in time. Captain,” he said, 
as he shook hands with the commander of the 
Mohawk. “We are going in to-morrow.” 

“ So soon ! ” exclaimed the Captain. “ But 
my men will get all the stores aboard to-night. 
I judge you have some word for me from the 
Admiral. Will you walk into my cabin?” 

“ Thank you.” 


ii8 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

And the two officers disappeared from the 
deck. 

“ I’d like to know wot Admiral it are,” mut- 
tered Porgy, who was busy close at hand. 

''Well, my ancient bully,” said Miss Mitty- 
kins, " here’s the fellow who can tell you. I 
heard one of the midshipmen passing the word. 
It’s Farragut.” 

" Wot ! Old Farragut! Then there’s a-goin’ 
fur to be one o’ the biggest fights ye ever saw ; 
fur he’s a fighter. But great Jacob’s ladder ! ” 

" What is it?” 

" Why, boy, we’ll not be in it. Them there 
ships is all steamers, an’ no sailin’ ship could 
run that ’ere channel under fire. Didn’t ye 
see the monitors in nearer the shore ? ” 

" No ! Monitors, eh ? ” 

" Yessirree ! No, we’ll be left out here while 
other pussons goes in an’ has all the fun.” 

For three hours the crew of the Mohawk 
worked liked beavers, helped by a score of 
boats and their crews from the other ships. 
Then, just as the weary sailors thought that 
they were about to be sent to rest, the crew 
was mustered and the names of ten marines and 
twenty seamen were read, including those of 
all our friends. 

" These men will get their hammocks and 


Off Mobile Bay 


119 

report to Captain Percival Drayton, of the 
Hartford. They will remain aboard that ship 
until the action of to-morrow and subsequent 
operations at this port for which they may 
be required are ended,” were the orders. 

“An’ wot d’ye think o’ that?” said Porgy, 
with a chuckle, as he dived below to get his 
hammock and dunnage. But Johnny, to whom 
his remark was addressed, was too excited to 
reply. The thought that on the morrow he was 
to go into his first battle had set every nerve 
in his body tingling, and his breath to going 
in sharp, short pants. He got his hammock 
and dunnage and tumbled into the boat with 
his friends in a state bordering on hysteria ; 
but he was recalled to his senses by the sweet 
voice of Mile, de Calaveras, singing softly : 

“ An’ a sailor he would be ! ” 

“ Stow that jaw-tackle there,” growled the 
petty officer in charge of the boat. “You’ll 
not want to sing to-morrow.” 

The dull click of the oars in the rowlocks 
was all that was heard until the boat reached 
the port ladder of the Hartford and the men 
boarded her. They were quickly assigned to 
their hammock numbers and learned that they 
had been brought aboard not because the ves- 


1 20 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

sel was shorthanded, but because the great 
Admiral expected that they would be needed 
to fill vacancies caused by the morrow’s fight. 
A heavy rain was falling when Johnny and his 
companions went on deck to take a look about 
them before turning in. It was a black night 
and the twinkling lights of the sombre ships, 
as the}’^ swung restlessly at their arched cables, 
made the damp gloom more impressive. Not 
a sound could be heard from the shore, but all 
hands knew that the shotted guns of Fort 
Morgan lay ready to hurl death and devasta- 
tion upon any ship that ventured within their 
range. Around the Hartford lay a fleet more 
powerful than the combined English, Spanish, 
and French forces at Trafalgar. In the Hart- 
ford’s cabin Farragut sat writing to his wife. 

“ I am going into Mobile in the morning if 
God is my leader, as I hope he is, and in Him 
I place my trust. If He thinks it is the place 
for me to die, I am ready to submit to His 
will.” 

“ What’s that out yonder ? ” whispered 
Johnny. 

“ Fog,” answered Porgy, shortly. “ Might as 
well turn in. We’ll see nothin’ more this night 
an’ we got to see a good deal in the mornin’.” 

A great gray curtain of writhing mist swept 


Off Mobile Bay 


121 


in from the Gulf and shut the fleet within its 
folds. Johnny went to his hammock, jumped 
in, and tried to sleep. But how could he on 
the eve of his first battle ? 


CHAPTER XV 

“ AN AUGUST MORNING WITH FARRAGUT ” 

At 5.30 on the morning of August 5th, Far- 
ragut, sipping his tea in his cabin, said to the 
Captain of the Hartford : 

“ Well, Drayton, we might as well get under 
way.’* 

Mobile was the second port in importance 
to the Confederates, and when New Orleans 
fell, in 1862, they made up their minds to pre- 
pare for the defense of the Alabama city. Con- 
sequently on that memorable August morning, 
when Farragut’s fleet prepared to force an 
entrance to the bay, the enemy was ready to 
meet him. The narrow and crooked channel 
passes between two points, inside of which the 
bay opens to a capacious sheet of water. On 
the westerly point stood Fort Gaines, garri- 
soned by nearly nine hundred men and heavily 
armed. On the easterly point was Fort Mor- 
gan, built of brick walls nearly five feet thick 
and protected by piles of sand-bags. Its forty 
guns were formidable, and there were six hun- 
122 


** An August Morning'^ 


123 


dred and forty brave men in the citadel. From 
Fort Gaines to the edge of the ship-channel 
ran a double line of heavy stakes. Across the 
ship-channel to a point three hundred feet from 
the muzzles of Fort Morgan’s guns ran a double 
row of torpedoes ready to explode at a touch. 

Inside the bay, with steam up, lay the terrible 
ram Tennessee. Her casemate, inside of which 
were her five powerful guns, was of solid oak 
and Georgia pine twenty-five inches thick, 
sheathed with from five to six inches of iron 
plating. Besides this almost invulnerable craft 
there were three partly armored gun-boats, 
the Morgan, the Gaines, and the Selma, mount- 
ing in all sixteen guns. 

The Union fleet was one of great strength. 
It consisted of the Hartford, the Brooklyn, the 
Richmond, the Monongahela, the Ossipee, and 
the Oneida, war-steamers mounting from eight 
to twenty guns each ; the gun-boats Octorara, 
Metacomet, Port Royal, Seminole, Kennebec, 
Itasca, and Galena, the last carrying ten and 
the others five to eight guns each ; and the 
single-turreted monitors Tecumseh, Manhat- 
tan, Winnebago, and Chickasaw. The Union 
force looked on paper far more powerful than 
the Confederate. But it had before it the terri- 
ble undertaking of steaming in column through 


124 Cruise of the Mohawk 


a narrow and unknown channel, beset with 
over a hundred torpedoes, any one of them 
capable of destroying a vessel, directly under 
the guns of Fort Morgan and at an appallingly 
short range. The chances were five to one 
that not half the fleet would reach the inner 
waters, where lay the dread ram, a match for 
a score of wooden ships. 

But the great heart of Farragut never fal- 
tered, and when he went on deck on the morn- 
ing of August 5th, his calm resolute face sent 
a thrill of determination through every man. 
Johnny Rodgers learned his first hero-worship 
at that moment, and nothing that the Admiral 
afterward did gave him any surprise, for, boy 
as he was, he felt that he was in the presence 
of a giant. 

Look,” he said to Porgy, “ the Metacomet 
is coming up on our port side.” 

“ Yes,” answered Porgy, “ the ships are ago- 
in’ in lashed together two by two, so as ’t ef 
one gets her engines smashed t’other’ll tow 
her.” 

Each of the 'arger ships now made a gun- 
boat fast on her port side, and at the same in- 
stant the Union flag was run up to every mast- 
head in the fleet. The armor-clad monitors 
formed in single column on the right of the 


** An August Morning'" 125 

ships, and the fleet slowly moved forward. 
The crews were at their stations for general 
quarters, and Johnny noticed that many of the 
grim old warriors were stripped to the waist. 
The Brooklyn, with the Octorara, led the way, 
the Hartford and the Metacomet following. 
There was dead silence on the flagship’s deck. 
Only the voice of the leadsman was heard 
mechanically chanting : 

“ A quarter less four ! and a half three! ” 

With tremor after tremor of nervous excite- 
ment coursing over his body, Johnny, who had 
been detailed as an extra powder-boy, stood by 
the hatch and let his eyes drink in the scene. 
McFarland, Wood, and Jassin, standing at the 
wheel, behind a breastwork of hammocks, 
looked like bronze statues. Captain Drayton, 
with arms folded and chin lowered, gazed in- 
tently ahead from his post on the quarter-deck, 
where he was attended by Lieutenant John 
Crittenden Watson, Lieutenant Arthur Reid 
Yates, Ensign Henry Howard Brownell, and 
Signal Quartermaster Knowles. The last- 
named riveted a steady gazfel aloft. There in 
the port main-shrouds, nearly thirty feet above 
the deck, stood the Admiral, where Knowles 
afterward lashed him, with his calm, resolute 
face glowing with patriot blood, and his dark 


1 26 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

uniform cut in clear silhouette against the 
bright blue sky. He little knew that he was 
making an immortal picture. 

“I wish it would begin,” muttered Johnny, 
feverish with anxiety. 

Aye, and so does every heart in the ship, I 
fancy,” said a low, gentle voice. 

Johnny turned and saw Mile, de Calaveras, 
hatless and with fair hair streaming to the 
wind, with scarlet roses in his cheeks and 
flames in his gentle eyes. Johnny all his life 
long remembered the sweet, wild face of the 
boy as he saw it that August morning. 

“ Silence, there ! ” said the division officer 
in a sharp whisper. The monitors had now 
swung across the channel and were closing on 
Fort Morgan. 

Boom ! Boom ! 

The Tecumseh had fired two shots and the 
shells exploded over the fort. The battle was 
on. Yet again there was silence for a quarter 
of an hour. 

“They must be up to some durned trick,” 
muttered Porgy. 

As if in denial of his words, a red tongue of 
flame sprang from the fort, followed by another 
and another. Great geysers of swirling foam 
shot up around the Brooklyn as the shells fell. 


**An August Morning'" 


127 


Look,” said Johnny, she’s answering ! ” 

The Brooklyn’s bow-guns began to thunder. 

“ Ready with No. i starboard,” rang the sud- 
den order along the Hartford’s deck, and 
Johnny’s heart jumped into his mouth as he 
realized that he was now in action. The flag- 
ship opened fire, and for a time Johnny moved 
as one in a wild nightmare. He was dimly 
conscious that he heard the horrible shrieking 
of shells as they rushed over the ship ; that the 
ram Tennessee and her companions had moved 
out and were pouring a terrific fire upon the 
flagship ; that one shell had struck the fore- 
mast and another the maintopmast ; that splin- 
ters were flying in clouds ; that men were 
panting, pushing, hauling, swearing, praying 
at the great hot guns around him ; that some 
of them were falling down with fearful cries 
and that something dark, red, and slippery 
was flowing along the deck ; that Mile, de Cal- 
averas, laughing like a child with a new toy, 
had seized the lanyard from the hand of a fall- 
ing gunner and fired the shot himself; that 
Meredith and Miss Mittykins were as black as 
negroes with powder-stains ; that Porgy was 
mumbling and grumbling about the widow ; 
that Morton Brewer was loading and firing his 
rifle blindly; and that over all was a great, 


128 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

stifling, strangling cloud of sulphurous smoke. 
But somehow he did his duty and kept the 
powder going. 

And now there was a momentary lull in the 
firing, for the Tecumseh was drawing near the 
Tennessee and it was plain that the ram was 
waiting for the monitor. Was there to be 
another Monitor and Merrimac fight? That 
question was soon answered. A heavy, dull, 
muffled explosion was heard, and a mountain 
of water shot into the air. The Tecumseh 
careened far over, showing a terrible rent in 
her side. She had struck a torpedo. Her 
stern rose into the air, the propeller revolving 
wildly, and with the Stars and Stripes streaming 
to the wind, she went down bow first, taking 
with her ninety-three out of a crew of one hun- 
dred and fourteen men. A groan went through 
the whole fleet, followed by cheers from the 
Confederate fort. At the same instant the 
Brooklyn and Octorara stopped and backed, 
and signals began to fly. 

They've seed the torpedoes ! ” exclaimed 
Porgy. 

“ Look ! " cried Johnny, they’re turning 
right across our bows !” 

“ By the great hook-block ! ” said Porgy, 
‘‘ the forts are a-rakin' of ’em fore an’ aft ! ” 


**An August Morning'' 


129 


It was true. The whole line was thrown 
into confusion, and destruction loomed over 
the Union fleet. The Confederates, brave and 
alert and skilful in war, saw their opportunity 
and poured in a terrific fire. The fort was a 
living sheet of flame, and the decks of the 
Hartford and the other ships ran blood. Yet 
the grimy, blood-stained seamen stood to their 
tasks like heroes. 

“ We’ll never get in!” exclaimed Meredith. 
‘‘ It’s all up with us.” 

We will get in ! ” cried Mile, de Calaveras 
in a clear soprano that reached even the ears 
of the Admiral aloft. ‘‘We will get in! We 
must f ” 

“ What’s the matter with the Brooklyn ? ” 
cried the Admiral ; “ she must have plenty of 
water there.” 

“ Plenty and to spare,” was the answer. 

“ It ain’t water she wants,” muttered Porgy ; 
“ it’s sand ! ” 

“ She signals,” cried Knowles, “ that there is 
a heavy line of torpedoes ahead.” 

For an instant the great Admiral looked 
toward the Brooklyn with an expression of 
unutterable disdain, and then his lips parted 
in the one profane speech of his life — a speech 
that has become immortal ; 


9 


130 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Damn the torpedoes ! Go ahead, Captain 
Drayton ! Four bells ! ” 

The Hartford sprang forward like a hound 
from the leash. A storm of mighty cheers 
burst from the Union fleet, and following their 
dauntless leader the vessels rushed on, filling 
the air with flame and thunder. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE LAST OF THE TENNESSEE 

“We got to go west o’ that red buoy,” said 
Porgy, pausing a moment to wipe the perspi- 
ration out of his eyes ; “ the Brooklyn’s right 
in the channel.” 

“ What of it ? ” asked Johnny. 

“ That’s where them torpedoes is.” 

The same thought seemed to pass through 
the whole crew at the same time and every 
face grew set and white. But as the flagship 
sped onward and passed safely over the torpe- 
does, some of which were heard scraping along 
her bottom, all hands realized that one of the 
boldest exploits in naval history had been ac- 
complished, and a storm of cheers rose above 
the awful din of war. The remaining ships of 
the fleet, realizing that the flagship and her 
consort were now alone above the forts, ex- 
posed to the attack of the powerful ram and 
the gunboats, bent every energy to follow ; 
but they had been thrown into such disorder 
by the Brooklyn’s stopping that they were a 
long time in getting themselves disentangled. 


132 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Here comes the ram ! ” exclaimed Mere- 
dith. 

“ An’ she are a-goin’ to ram us,” said Porgy. 

As the Tennessee approached she hurled a 
seven-inch percussion shell into the side of the 
Hartford, and the shrieks of wounded men 
from below told of its horrible work. The 
Hartford rained shot and shell upon the ram, 
but they fell from her armored sides like 
peas. On she came like a devouring monster ; 
but a skilful movement of the helm threw the 
Hartford and the Metacomet out of her path. 
Then she started down the Union column deal- 
ing death and devastation on every hand, while 
the Northern ships shelled her and rammed 
her in vain. Meanwhile the Hartford was at- 
tacked by the three Confederate gunboats. 
The Selma ran ahead of Farragut’s ship up the 
channel, and kept up a terrible raking fire. 
And now the Mohawk’s contribution to the 
crew proved its need ; for some of the flag- 
ship’s guns’ crews were reduced to half their 
number. Presently an opportunity came to 
swing the vessel so that she could get a fair 
shot at the Gaines. 

Now, lads, a broadside ! ” cried Captain 
Drayton. 

This ’ere’s wot I calls throwin’ physic to 


The Last of the Tennessee 133 

the dogs, as the widder used ter say,” cried 
Porgy, as he jerked the lockstring of his gun 
and jumped to the port to watch his shot. “ A 
werry putty s waller she are got, too.” 

A second broadside a little later sent the 
Gaines aground and deserted under the guns 
of the fort. Now Farragut ordered his gun- 
boats to chase the enemy’s gunboats, and the 
Metacomet, being cast loose, followed the Sel- 
ma till she surrendered. The Morgan escaped. 
And now the Union fleet was inside the bay, 
and for a time the battle ceased. Officers re- 
laxed their stern expressions and smiled, and 
men looked around to see who had lost the 
number of his mess. 

** Everybody all right ? ” asked Porgy. 

“ I believe so,” answered Meredith. 

Nothing the matter with me except that 
I’m nearly deaf,” said Miss Mittykins, with a 
smile. 

And I am sick with the sight of it all,” 
murmured Mile, de Calaveras ; “ but this will 
be the end.” 

“ How about you ? ” 

“ Oh,” answered Johnny, I guess I’ve been 
pretty near scared to death ; but I’m not 
hurt.” 

‘‘ Wal,” said Porgy, “ it don’t make no differ- 


134 Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

ence how much you git scared ef you keep on 
doin’ yer dooty.” 

“ Hello ! ” cried Meredith, “ here comes the 
ram again.” 

“ She are not a-givin’ us much time fur re- 
freshments,” said Porgy, as he turned to his 
gun. 

Admiral Franklin Buchanan, with the bra- 
very that always characterized the warriors 
of the Lost Cause, was coming with his ram 
to fight three monitors and nearly twenty 
wooden cruisers. Farragut ordered his ves- 
sels to try ramming, and gallantly they 
obeyed ; but they might as well have hurled 
their bows against Marblehead Rock as against 
the Tennessee while she, at close quarters, sent 
her massive shells crashing through their 
wooden sides and filling their decks with frag- 
ments of timber and shattered human bodies. 

“ She’s coming at us now!” screamed John- 
ny, in his excitement. 

For a few moments it looked as if the two 
flagships must meet bows on, which would 
have meant the sinking of the Hartford ; but 
the Tennessee’s stearing-gear was not in good 
order and she simply grazed along her oppo- 
nent’s side, sending in one shell that killed or 
wounded twelve men. It seemed to Johnny 


The Last of the Tennessee 135 

that he was looking directly into the muzzle of 
this gun as it was discharged, yet he was held 
motionless by a kind of fascination. Then he 
heard a cry near him, and saw Morton Brewer 
fall from the Hartford’s rail, where he had 
leaped to discharge his musket, and disappear 
in the swirling water between the two vessels. 
It was no time to be shouting man over- 
board,” and no one but Johnny seemed to no- 
tice what had happened. For a single instant 
he hesitated ; then, flinging down his pow- 
der-box, he bounded through the nearest 
port into the water. Meredith caught sight of 
him just as he went, and with an exclamation 
sprang to the port. The next instant he saw 
Johnny reappear at the surface near the ram’s 
quarter, supporting with difficulty the uncon- 
scious form of Morton. 

“ Keep up ! I’ll heave you a line ! ” screamed 
Meredith, waving his hand. 

Johnny did not hear the words, for the great 
guns were crashing like thunderbolts above 
him, but he saw the motion of the hand and it 
gave him fresh courage. Meredith dashed aft, 
and seizing a piece of spare tackle, hove the 
end to the boy. Johnny caught it, and his arm 
was nearly torn from the socket as he was 
towed forward by the ship. Still he clenched 


1 36 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


his lips and held on with a desperate grip. 
Meredith, in an agony of anxiety, sprang to 
Captain Drayton’s side and begged him to 
send help. The Captain’s quick and trained 
eye took in the situation at a glance, and he 
ordered a midshipman to lower away a boat. 

“ They’re coming for you ! Hold on ! ” yelled 
Meredith over the rail. 

Johnny smiled, and hung on with throbbing 
muscles. A few minutes later the boat reached 
him, and he was relieved of his burden. Then 
he fainted, and when he recovered conscious- 
ness he was lying on the deck of the Hartford, 
surrounded by his friends. 

** He’s all right,” exclaimed Miss Mittykins. 

“ An’ Little Cardee, says he, says he, 

‘ A-rescued I’m a-goin’ to be.’ ” 

Mile, de Calaveras, who was chafing one of the 
boy’s hands, was smiling gently and singing 
the old song in a low tone. 

“ How are you boys?” said Johnny, feebly. 

Am I hit ? ” 

“ No,” said Porgy, “ you’re not hit ; you’re 
drownded. Howsumever, I reckon you’ll live 
to be hanged, as the widder used ter tell me.” 

‘‘ I remember now,” said the boy. “ And 
Morton — is he dead?” 



HE BOUNDED THROUGH THE NEAREST PORT INTO THE WATER. 






The Last of the Tennessee 137 

“ No,” said Meredith, “ he’s all right. He 
was knocked unconscious by a splinter, and 
he’s got a big lump on his head ; but he’s safe.” 

“ Where’s the ram?” asked Johnny. 

“ She’s down below us, having it hot and 
heavy with the other ships,” said Meredith. 

We dassn’t fire at her just now,” exclaimed 
Porgy, ’cos tother wessels is atween us an’ 
her. But we’re a-comin’ ’round so’s to ram 
her.” 

“ Oh, I must get up and see it,” exclaimed 
Johnny. 

They helped him to his feet. He felt a little 
weak and dizzy and his right arm was almost 
numb; but he was getting better every min- 
ute. 

Stand by your guns ! ” came the sharp 
order from the quarter-deck. 

“ Where’s my powder-box ?” cried Johnny. 

He saw one lying on the deck, picked it up 
and slung it over his shoulder, and went a trifle 
unsteadily to his station. 

“ That ’ere boy are not made o’ mush,” said 
Porgy, earnestly ; “ he are built o’ live-oak an’ 
are copper-fastened inside an’ out.” 

The Hartford was now swinging around to 
ram the Tennessee ; but unfortunately the 
Lackawanna, coming from the opposite direc- 


138 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

tion, was attempting to do the same thing. A 
collision was inevitable, and the Lackawanna 
struck the flagship a heavy blow, smashing the 
rail between two of her ports and overturn- 
ing a gun. The crash, mingled with the cease, 
less thunder of the heavy firing, was terrifying. 
The Admiral, who had descended from the 
rigging, jumped into the mizzen-chains to see 
what damage had been done, and it was thought 
that he had gone overboard. Fearful cries 
arose. 

Lower away the port boats ! ” 

“ Save the Admiral ! save the Admiral ! ” 
Farragut sprang upon the rail and showed 
himself to his men. 

“ Ahead, full speed ! ” he cried in ringing 
tones ; “ ram her, Drayton ! ” 

Triumphant cheers rang along the deck and 
the Hartford once more dashed forward to the 
fray. Now the monitor Manhattan crawled up 
on the port side of the ram and drove a fifteen- 
inch shell against her stout casemate at short 
range. For the first time daylight showed 
through the cracks of that massive structure. 
Then the monitor Chickasaw ran under the 
ram’s stern and hung there like grim fate, 
pounding away at the casemate with her 
eleven-inch guns, never more than fifty yards 


The Last of the Teiinessee 139 

away from the foe. The fighting was desper- 
ate. It was the last expiring struggle of a fear- 
ful contest. Admiral Buchanan was wound- 
ed ; and Captain Johnston, taking command 
of the ram, fought on with unflagging cour- 
age. But the Tennessee’s batteries became si- 
lent, except for an occasional shot, and with 
broken steering-gear she drifted aimlessly. 

The devastating fire of the Union fleet had 
done its work, and at ten o’clock Captain John- 
ston went upon the casemate and waved a 
white flag. The battle was over and cheer 
upon cheer rolled across the water. Our 
friends all shook hands — all except Mile, de 
Calaveras. With his lithe and sinuous body 
swaying with all the grace of his native ele- 
ment, he sprang upon the breech of the gun 
which Porgy had been firing, and with his eyes 
gleaming like coals in a face as white as driven 
foam in a gale, he cried : 

“ A song ! a song of victory ! What’ll it be, 
my bullies? Mlle.de Calaveras will sing for 
you — oh ! ” 

The light form reeled for a second, dark blue 
against the light-blue sky, and then toppled 
forward into Porgy’s arms. 

“ Lord help us ! ” said the old seaman, 
hoarsely ; he’s been hit! ” 


CHAPTER XVII 

‘'DELICATE ARIEL, I’LL SET THEE FREE” 

For a moment the little group of friends 
stood paralyzed, while Mile, de Calaveras lay 
in Porgy’s great strong arms, smiling up into 
his rugged face, with gentle, loving eyes, and 
white, drawn lips. 

“ Lay me down on the deck, Porgy,” whis- 
pered the boy; “ I’m used to decks, you know.” 

The bronzed sailor laid the boy down with 
the tenderness of a woman. Then they all 
found their voices. 

“Where’s the doctor?” cried Meredith. 

“ Down below with the wounded,” said 
Johnny. 

“ And there are so many,” exclaimed Miss 
Mittykins; “ can’t we get him back to our own 
ship somehow ?” 

“ Porgy, old man, go to the captain about 
it,” said Meredith ; “ he’ll listen to you.” 

“ What is it ? What’s the trouble here ? ” 

It was the voice of the officer commanding 
the division. 


140 


Ariel, ril Set Thee Free'' 


141 

“ Calaveras is wounded, sir,” said Meredith ; 
“ Calaveras, the pet of our ship, the best ” 

Meredith’s voice shook, and he turned his 
head away. The officer looked sadly down at 
the boy, who had closed his eyes and was 
breathing quickly. 

A brave and true lad,” he said ; he has 
done his duty like a man. Where is his 
wound ? ” 

Shot through the body,” said Miss Mitty- 
kins ; “ his number is hoisted, sir. Can’t we 
go back to our ship ? ” 

“ I’ll see.” 

A few moments passed and then the steam- 
launch Loyall was called alongside and ordered 
to take the Mohawk’s detail back to her. A 
tackle and sling were rigged to lower Calave- 
ras into the boat, and as they prepared to lift 
him, he opened his eyes and gazed around him. 

What are they going to do to me, Porgy ? ” 
he asked. 

“ We’re a-goin’ all on us back to the Mohawk.” 

^Tm glad of that,” said the boy, and then 
he asked, brightly : Are you going to carry 
me into the boat ? I don’t think I can walk.” 

‘‘ We’re a-goin’ to lower you with a sling.” 

Oh, how jolly ! I’ve always wondered how 
that felt.” 


142 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

He was silent while Porgy carried him to 
the ship’s side, though a quick sigh of pain 
escaped him as he was lifted. 

“Did I hurt you, lad?” asked the old sea- 
man, with great drops of perspiration starting 
on his brow. 

“ No, Porgy, it’s nothing/’ answered the boy, 
smiling. 

In the gangway stood a group of officers, for 
somehow a knowledge of that bright and sweet 
young spirit had spread through the flagship. 
As Porgy came up with his burden, Farragut 
stepped forward and took one of the boy’s 
hands. Calaveras looked up into his face with 
amazement and reverence. 

“ My boy,” said the great commander, “ I am 
sorry you are hurt. You have done your duty 
bravely and well.” 

“ God bless your honor,” said the boy, softly, 
his eyes brightening with pride. 

Then they lowered him gently into the 
launch, where Porgy had gone to receive him, 
and in a few minutes the dull churning of the 
engine was all that was heard as the little craft 
went swiftly down toward the mouth of the 
harbor. A sad group it was in the stern, where 
Porgy sat with Mile, de Calaveras’s head rest- 
ing against his knee. Miss Mittykins was 


^'Ariely 77/ Sei Thee Free'' 


143 


kneeling on the floor-boards holding one of the 
wounded boy’s hands. Meredith and Johnny 
sat on the other side of the boat, silent. They 
passed under the dumb guns of Fort Morgan, 
past which a few short hours before they had 
come up amid a hail of shot and shell. Out- 
side the point, slowly rising and falling on the 
glassy swells, lay the small gunboats and the 
old Mohawk. The launch ran up to the port 
ladder, and a hundred eager faces peered over 
the rail to see who had come. 

“ Well done, lads!” cried Mr. Freeman, who 
was standing on the poop. 

Porgy raised his hand for silence, and the 
officer said, anxiously : 

“ Who’s that ? Some one wounded ? ” 

It’s Calaveras, sir,” answered Porgy. 

A wave of blank dismay swept over the faces 
of the whole crew. Orders were issued swiftly 
and in low tones, as if the familiar curtness of 
the quarter-deck might now be too sharp for 
those delicate ears. A tackle and sling were 
rigged, and the boy was gently hoisted aboard 
the ship which had been his only home for all 
the years of his young life. Strong arms bore 
him lovingly to the sick-bay, where the surgeon 
bent over him with all the tenderness of a 
father. Meanwhile Porgy, Meredith, and Miss 


144 Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


Mittykins were surrounded by the men for- 
ward, begging them in mournful tones to tell 
how Mile, de Calaveras came to be wounded. 
The grizzled and hardy seamen seemed to take 
it as a direct personal affront to themselves, 
and appeared to be inclined to hold their ship- 
mates in some way to blame for it. 

“ Blast ye all ! ” exclaimed Porgy, losing his 
patience, “ d’ye s’pose there are one o’ us wot 
wouldn’t ’a’ took the shot ef we’d knowed it 
were a-comin’? W’y I reckon even young 
Rodgers here, wot’s a new hand, would ’a’ 
done ’t. Leastways he jumped in atween us 
an* the ram fur to save that there bloomin’ 
marine from drownin’.” 

For a moment there was some curiosity 
about Johnny’s exploit, but interest soon re- 
turned to Calaveras ; and in half an hour the 
news had spread through the ship that he 
could not live. As soon as Captain Barker 
heard it, he went to the sick bay to see if he 
could do anything to ease the last moments of 
the ocean- waif. 

“ I think it might be best to send you ashore,” 
he said, “ as we are to go to sea to-night.” 

Don’t do that, sir,” said Mile, de Calaveras, 
with a smile ; I’ve got the land under my lee, 
sir, and I’m going ashore forever before long. 


^*Ariely ril Set Thee Free'" 145 

Keep me aboard, sir, and bury me out yonder 
where you found me.” 

The Captain turned away with tears in his 
eyes, for the pathos of this boy’s life touched 
him deeply. In the second dog-watch, when 
the sun was filling the western horizon with a 
glory of orange flame, word was sent on deck 
that the dying boy wished to see his immediate 
companions. Porgy, Meredith, Mittykins, John- 
ny, and Scipio were admitted to the sick bay. 

Boys,” said Calaveras, faintly, “ they’ve 
hoisted the recall for me and I’ve got to go.” 

W’ich you’re bound fur the right port, lad,” 
said Porgy, ’cos w’y : ye’ve alius sailed under 
the direction o’ the right Pilot.” 

“ Would one of you — mind saying — a prayer 
to help me — to round to ? ” 

There was a moment’s hesitation and then 
Johnny Rodgers dropped on his knees beside 
the cot and the orphan outcast repeated the 
Lord’s Prayer for the orphan castaway. After 
that there was silence, broken only by the fast 
breathing of the dying boy and the creak of 
cordage as the ship slowly rolled on the light 
swell. Presently Calaveras’s mind began to 
wander, and he muttered : 

“ Come — come ! Porgy, it’s our — watch — in 
the foretop. Nothing in sight — that’s good. 

10 


146 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

No! there’s a sail! Sing out, Porgy — I can’t 
— I’m so tired.” 

He relapsed into silence and closed his eyes. 
His breath came in a long sigh, and they all 
thought that it was over. But the young chest 
began to heave again, and suddenly clutching 
the sides of the cot in a convulsive grip, Cala- 
veras sat bolt upright with bright wide-open 
eyes, and the clear, sweet voice that had so 
often filled the forecastle deck with its songs, 
rang out, in one strong cry : 

Land ho ! ” 

Then the muscles relaxed, the breath went 
out in a short gasp, and Mile, de Calaveras fell 
back in the cot, asleep till the last great re- 
veille. 

“ Mile, de Calaveras is dead ! ” 

The sad news flew from lip to lip, and it 
needed not the sight of the three sobbing boys 
who came out of the sick-bay with Porgy and 
Scipio to fill the decks with grief. The crew 
went about its labors in the most absolute si- 
lence. Even the officers gave their orders in 
low tones, as if fearful of disturbing the child 
of nature who slept so peacefully below. In 
the first watch the Mohawk got her anchor and 
with a mild westerly wind sighing across her 
deck, stole out into the Gulf as if on tiptoe. 


Arte If ril Set Thee Free'' 147 


The wind freshened in the night and by six 
o’clock the next evening the ship was a good 
two hundred miles at sea. It was then that the 
bell tolled and that four of the crew bore the 
slender body on deck and placed it by the rail 
with an ensign spread over it. Captain Barker 
and the officers stood with heads uncovered, as 
the crew did, while the Captain read the service 
for the burial of the dead. After the waters 
had parted and closed again till the end of 
time over the young form, the Captain raised 
his hand for attention and said : 

“ My lads, I know that your sorrow is great ; 
but let us all remember that, young as he was, 
he gave his life for his country and so died a 
glorious hero. Let us all look to it that we are 
as fit to go into the presence of the Great Ad- 
miral as he was.” 

Amen,” murmured the doctor. 

As the crew dispersed Morton Brewer 
walked up to Johnny, whose eyes were still 
wet with tears, and said : 

“ If it hadn’t been for you, I might have 
been where that little fellow is. I sha’n’t for- 
get that. Will you shake hands ?” 

And Johnny, looking into Morton’s face as 
he held his hand, realized that the old hostility 
was buried forever. 


CHAPTER XVIII 
A SAIL AND A NIGHT-CHASE 

Three days later the Mohawk was well to 
the northward and eastward of the Florida 
channel. A brisk northwest wind was blowing 
and the ship was under all plain sail to her 
topgallants, close hauled on the starboard tack, 
with her port guns pointing into the streamers 
of smoking foam that spread sternward from 
her lee bow, and her starboard guns pointing 
at the white-edged, leaden-centred clouds that 
flew across the field of blue. In the changing 
rifts the soaring sun flashed in and out, now 
turning the ocean to a shimmering sea of sap- 
phire and silver, and again leaving it a gray 
plain serried with ridges of snow. The round- 
ed sails stood out hard and sharp with their 
crescent edges against the sky, their brown 
hollows filled with warm shadows and the 
ceaseless roar of the driving breeze. Leaning 
against the lee rail just forward of the main- 
mast stood Johnny and Morton Brewer. 

148 


A Sail and a Night-Chase 149 

I think you ought to write to your father 
as soon as we make port, Morton,” said 
Johnny. 

I suppose you’re right,” said Morton. 

Perhaps I didn’t do just as I ought to in 
coming away.” 

I’m glad you think that way, Morton. You 
know he’s your father, after all. I only wish 
mine were alive ; I don’t think anything could 
drive me away from him.” 

And mine hasn’t been much of a father to 
you, has he? ” 

“ Well, never mind about that,” said Johnny. 
“ If he’ll only take good care of my money, 
so that I can get a fair start in life after I’ve 
served my time out here.” 

Morton turned his head away in order that 
Johnny might not see his face, for he looked 
unhappy. 

I hope to get a chance to buy a share in a 
merchant vessel,” continued Johnny, and set 
up in commerce.” 

Hang it all ! ” exclaimed Morton, '' I must 
tell you the honest truth. I don’t believe you’ll 
get the money so easily, for father doesn’t 
want to part with it ; and, besides, I think he 
intends to leave Sancet.” 

‘‘To leave Sancet!” exclaimed Johnny; 


150 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

Why, where’s he going ? And what’s he 
going for ? ” 

The boy’s question was destined to go with- 
out an answer, for just as Morton appeared to 
to be about to reply, the voice of the lookout 
rang out : 

“ Sail ho ! ” 

The usual questions and answers followed, 
and it was learned that a vessel had been des- 
cried far to the westward, toward the land 
standing out on the port tack, in such a direc- 
tion that she must in time cross the Mohawk’s 
bows. His ship was near a hostile coast and 
it was impossible for Captain Barker to be too 
cautious. He was sent for, and the moment 
he became acquainted with the exact state of 
affairs he determined to tack ship, and the next 
instant the order was shouted : 

“ Ready about ! ” 

The eager crew sprang smartly to stations 
and the commands swiftly followed : 

“ Helm’s a-lee ! Rise tacks and sheets! Haul 
taut ! Mainsail haul ! Let go and haul ! ” 

For several minutes, as the Mohawk swung 
round from the starboard to the port tack, 
there was a bewildering confusion of noises. 
Blocks groaned, loose canvas slatted and thun- 
dered, and the deck resounded with the tread 


A Sail and a Night-Chase 151 

of many feet. Then the ship gathered way 
on the new tack and order resumed its sway. 

The stranger was now far astern of the Mo- 
hawk, but holding a weatherly course. A mid- 
shipman was sent to the mizzen topmast head 
with a strong glass. 

“ She’s an old-fashioned ship, like the Mo- 
hawk, sir,” he sang out in answer to the Cap- 
tain’s questions, with tall topsails and topgal- 
lants.” 

“ That must be the Osceola, if it’s a warship 
at all,” said Mr. Wilson; '‘she’s the only old 
ship of the line they have in commission.” 

“ If it is the Osceola, she has light heels,” said 
Mr. Freeman ; “ I served in her once.” 

“ We’ll soon find out,” said Captain Barker, 
letting his voice swell out into a sharp cry : 
“ Aloft and loose the royals ! ” 

No sooner were the new sails set than the 
midshipman aloft cried : 

“ There go his royals, sir ! ” 

“ Mr. Freeman,” said the Captain, “ it looks 
like a chase.” 

“ Ay, sir, it does that ; but it’s a stern chase.” 

“And if you were to let the Mohawk off a 
point, sir,” said the Master, Mr. Wilson, “I 
think the old girl would fairly take the bit in 
her teeth and run away from yonder fellow.” 


152 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

** We’ll try it, sir,” said the Captain, giving 
the necessary command to the man at the 
wheel. The stranger was now plainly visible 
from the deck, though his movements could 
still be advantageously watched from aloft. 
Half an hour passed and the midshipman 
called : 

I think he’s gaining on us, sir.” 

“ There’s no question of that,” muttered Cap- 
tain Barker ; I can see the heads of his courses 
now.” 

Confound the fellow ! ” exclaimed Mr. Drake, 
the second-watch officer. 

“ What’s wrong, Drake ? ” said Mr. Truxton, 
with a laugh. “ Don’t you care about glory, 
and a little prize money thrown in ? ” 

“Tut, tut, gentlemen,” said the Captain; 
“ your talk is idle. My orders are to proceed 
northward with all haste and avoid fighting, if 
possible.” 

“ And here we are going to the eastward,” 
said the First Lieutenant, “ as if Davy Jones 
himself were after us.” 

“ As soon as it is fairly dark, sir, we shall 
tack again,” said the Captain. 

“ And lose our anxious friend in the night,” 
said Mr. Truxton. 

Porgy and Johnny got the foretop lookout 


A Sail and a Night- Chase 153 

in the first watch, and at nine-thirty o’clock 
the Mohawk went about The last glimmer of 
daylight had shown the stranger some seven or 
eight miles astern. The wind was lighter, but 
the sky was almost a solid mass of gray cloud. 
It was a densely dark night with the glimmer 
of a single star here and there. 

“ I reckon now,” said Porgy, that ’ere con- 
sum macious wessel are lost us.” 

I suppose so,” said Johnny, but I wish the 
old man had fought instead of running.” 

This ’ere old hooker are not much fur fight- 
in’ now,” said Porgy. “ Her days is pooty 
near done, an’ I shouldn’ be at all astonidged ef 
they guv our skipper somethin’ with a perpeller 
astarn w’en he gits back to Noo Yawk.” 

The two friends watched loyally for an hour 
and then Johnny suddenly exclaimed : 

‘‘ Porgy, look quick ! Where the one star is — 
there ! ” 

Wot are it, my son ? ” 

“ Something dark and quick slipped across 
that star. It looked like the royal of a ship.” 

** Mebbe you seed it an’ mebbe you didn’t. 
But ef you did, it were the other ship a-crossin’ 
our wake, an’ thinkin’ she are a-follerin’ us out 
to sea.” 

‘‘ Then we’ll get away from her.” 


154 Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

But in the last hours of the mid-watch, as 
darkness glimmered into dawn, Scipio and 
Meredith, who relieved Porgy and Johnny, re- 
ported a sail broad off the weather quarter, and 
daylight, which came in with a southeasterly 
wind and a drizzle of rain in the air, showed 
the towering spars and frowning ports of the 
grim pursuer not more than two miles away. 
Captain Barker was on deck in a minute and 
more sail was added to the already groaning 
spars of the Mohawk. The good ship reeled 
and staggered across the undulating expanse 
of leaden green, but the enemy gained per- 
ceptibly every moment. 

‘‘ I am much afraid that I shall have to dis- 
obey my orders,” said Captain Barker, with a 
grim smile. 

“Well, sir,” said Mr. Freeman, “I don’t 
suppose the Admiral expects you to perform 
impossibilities.” 

“ No, sir,” answered the Captain, taking a 
calm and steady survey of the foe. “ She’ll be 
within range in less than an hour at this rate.” 

“ Surely, sir.” 

“ I am a patient man, Mr. Freeman, but I’m 
not going to wait any longer.” 

And before the First Lieutenant quite real- 
ized the Captain’s intention, he shouted : 


A Sail and a Night- Chase 155 

Aloft to furl royals! In royals, down flying 
jib I Furl the royals ! Stow flying jib 1 Man 
fore and main clew garnets and buntlines ! Up 
fore and main sail 1 ” 

These orders were executed with the speed 
of an old-time crew, and the ship sailed de- 
nuded of her highest and lowest canvas. 

'‘And now, Mr. Freeman,” said the Captain, 
quietly, “ we’ll clear ship for action, for yonder 
fellow will be down quickly.” 

The watch below was already pouring on 
deck, for well the men knew what the shorten- 
ing of sail meant ; but their willing feet bound- 
ed more lightly up the ladders when the sharp 
beat of the drum rang out, followed by the 
screeching of the pipes and the bawling of the 
boatswain’s mates : 

“ A-a-a-all hands, clear ship for action ! ” 

“ Werry good, too,” said Porgy. “As the 
widder used ter say, ye can’t do no work with 
yer coat on.” 

In ten minutes the Mohawk was in fighting 
trim, with her crew at the shotted guns. 

“ Steady,” said the Captain to the man at the 
wheel. 

“ Steady, sir,” repeated the man. 

“ There goes an ensign up,” said Mr. Free- 


man. 


1 56 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

A small, dark ball was hoisted to the spanker 
peak, where it broke out into the streaming 
red and white of the British man-of-war flag. 
Laughter sounded along the deck of the Mo- 
hawk, and the division officers had not the 
heart to suppress it. 


CHAPTER XIX 
AN OLD-FASHIONED NAVAL DUEL 

** Keep all guns trained on that ship, but do 
not fire till you get the order,” said Mr. Free- 
man. “ Quartermaster ! ” 

“ Ay, ay, sir.” 

“ Show him the Chinese flag.” 

The triangular yellow ensign was run up on 
the peak halyards. Its appearance was a suffi- 
cient answer to the pursuing vessel. It meant 
that the Mohawk was just as much of a Chinese 
as the Osceola was of an Englishman. The 
stranger at once hauled down the English flag 
and hoisted the stars and bars of the Confed- 
eracy. 

*‘Now show him our colors,” said Captain 
Barker. 

Down came the flag of the Chinese Empire 
and up went the Stars and Stripes, while three 
hearty cheers broke from the Mohawk’s crew. 

Boom ! 

A cloud of white smoke spurted from the 
port bow of the Osceola, and a cannon-ball 
157 


158 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

plumped into the water under the Mohawk’s 
stern, sending a column of silvery spray into 
the air. No answer was made by the Mohawk. 
Her men stood like carved statues at the guns, 
waiting the command of the First Lieutenant. 
The members of the Master’s division were 
now sent quietly to their stations at the sheets, 
tacks, and braces, and every preparation was 
made for hauling sharp on the wind. The 
Osceola, in the meantime, was shortening sail 
with the evident intention of engaging the Mo- 
hawk in an old-fashioned yard-arm to yard-arm 
fight. 

“ Wot’n blazes are the skipper a-tryin’ to 
do?” muttered Porgy. 

“ I guess he knows,” whispered Johnny in 
reply. 

The Osceola came ranging up on the weather 
quarter of the Mohawk, firing steadily as she 
came. Most of her shots flew high, but one 
struck the quarter and played havoc with the 
Captain’s cabin. 

“ I’ll pay you well for that, my friend,” mut- 
tered Captain Barker, nodding to Mr. Wilson, 
who in turn waved his hand to the chief boat- 
swain’s mate. That petty officer blew a short, 
sharp blast on his pipe. Instantly the helm was 
put down and the yards braced up. The Mo- 


An Old-Fashioned Naval Duel 159 

hawk came up with the wind on the starboard 
beam, throwing her directly across the Osceo- 
la’s bows at a distance of some two hundred 
yards. 

“ Fire ! ” cried Mr. Freeman. 

The Mohawk staggered, and her whole frame 
trembled as the entire starboard broadside 
burst into one fearful blast of death. The 
swirling smoke shut the Osceola out of sight 
for a minute ; but the terrible shrieks and the 
rending of wood told that the broadside had 
well done its devastating work. 

“ Up with your helm ! Round in the weather 
braces ! ” ordered Mr. Wilson. 

Man the port battery ! ” said Mr. Free- 
man. 

The Mohawk had now crossed the Osceola’s 
bow, and as the result of the Master’s orders 
was bringing her port guns to bear. It was 
the Captain’s intention to get his vessel broad- 
side to broadside with the enemy, whose 
maimed condition now became apparent. Her 
mizzen topmast had been shot away, and the 
main topsail yard had lost its lifts. Her hull 
was pierced in a dozen places, and her sails and 
rigging were riddled and cut. Nevertheless 
she was gallantly handled. Her guns kept at 
their deadly work and the groans of the 


i6o The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


wounded began to sound along the Mohawk’s 
decks. The Osceola, seeing that the Mohawk 
was endeavoring to get on her starboard beam, 
kept away with the intention of raking her. 
But Captain Barker was too old a hand to 
be caught napping. He directed the Master 
to bring the wind on the port beam. This 
brought the two vessels side to side once 
more, and immediately Mr. Freeman again 
commanded : 

“ Fire ! ” 

The Mohawk delivered her entire port broad- 
side at a range of less than seventy-five yards. 
The effect was appalling. Screams of agony 
filled the air, and for a few moments the crew 
of the Osceola seemed to be paralyzed. Cap- 
tain Barker seized the opportunity for a decis- 
ive moment. 

** Up with the helm !” he cried. 

“ Boarders in the port bow ! ” commanded 
Mr. Freeman, springing forward to lead them. 

The two ships closed, the Mohawk’s bow- 
sprit thrusting itself over the cat-head of the Os- 
ceola, while the marines, among whom Morton 
Brewer was doing his duty manfully, poured 
a sweeping fire of musketry down upon her. 
With ringing cheers Mr. Freeman and the 
boarding party streamed over the Osceola’s 


An Old-Fashioned Naval Duel i6i 

bulwarks and began a hand-to-hand fight on 
her blood-stained deck. The Confederate 
crew fought bravely ; but their numbers had 
been much reduced, their ship was riddled, 
and they felt that the fortune of the day was 
against them. Slowly and steadily they were 
beaten back to the quarter deck. Most of 
their officers were killed or wounded, and, at 
last, when Mr. Freeman, with a shout of exulta- 
tion, burst through their ranks and, springing 
upon the poop, hauled down their vessel’s flag, 
they sullenly surrendered amid the cheers of 
the Mohawk’s crew. Captain Bland, of the 
Osceola, at once went aboard the Mohawk and 
offered his sword to Captain Barker. They 
had been classmates at the Naval Academy 
and now they were enemies. But Captain 
Barker said simply: 

Put your sword back in the scabbard, 
Bland, and come and have some dinner.” 

Mr. Freeman at once set to work transfer- 
ring the prisoners from the Osceola and putting 
a prize crew aboard of her to take her into 
port. It so happened that none of our friends 
was wounded in the engagement and that all of 
them were ordered to serve as members of the 
prize crew. Even Morton Brewer was in the 
small detail of marines that was sent aboard 


II 


1 62 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

the captured ship. Lieutenant Drake was or- 
dered to command the prize. 

“ You are to sail in company with us,” said 
Mr. Freeman, repeating the Captain’s orders, 
“ but if anything occurs to part us, you will 
make the best of your way to Fort Monroe 
with your vessel.” 

The prize crew was set to work at getting 
the rigging of the Osceola in order for sailing, 
and it was nearly sunset when that was ac- 
complished. 

Porgy,” said Johnny, as he was at work on 
a splice, “ I begin to feel like a veteran.” 

“ ’Cos w’y ? Ye bin in two fights. Two ! ” 

‘‘Yes, but one was a pretty big one,” said 
Johnny. 

“Werry good, an’ t’other were a old-fash- 
ioned sea-fight sich as are goin’ out o’ style 
sense steam an’ ironclads an’ monitors an’ sich 
things come in.” 

“ Mittykins,” said Johnny, “ I thought you 
were done for when I saw you go down in the 
boarding party.” 

“ I should have been,” said Miss Mittykins, 
“ if it hadn’t been for Scipio. He split the 
head of the gentleman who was pointing a pis- 
tol at mine. Scipio has a very pretty way 
with a cutlass.” 


An Old-Fashioned Naval Duel 163 

“ W’ich the same you kin appreciate better,” 
said Porgy, “ w’en you are in werry much need 
of ’t.” 

Done gone smash him head all right,” said 
Scipio. ** Dey killed ouah Calaveras ; wot we 
uns gwine do ef dey kills ouah Mit’kins too, 
humph ? ” 

The friends worked in silence after this 
speech, for they were not yet able to talk 
calmly about the death of Mile, de Calaveras. 
Half an hour before sundown Mr. Drake re- 
ported the Osceola ready to get under way, 
and at once the order came by signal from the 
Mohawk to follow in column. 

“ But I don’t like the looks of the weather,” 
muttered Mr. Drake. “ It has been blowing 
sullenly from the southwest all day, and now it 
is piping up fresh from the southeast. I wish 
I had a sounder ship under me.” 

Sunset, dark red and lowering, deepened 
into a gray and gloomy twilight, and the twi- 
light passed into a hard and starless night. 
The stern light of the Mohawk glowed like 
a red coal in the gloom, and the outlines 
of her sails stood in inky blackness against 
the dark sky. The wind kept on increasing 
in force and by midnight was blowing half a 
gale. 


164 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


“We must shorten sail,” said Mr. Drake, 
calling his signalman. 

The Mohawk was informed that even two 
topsails were too much for the Osceola and 
permission was given her to reef. The Mo- 
hawk herself was sailing comfortably, but in 
order to avoid running away from her prize 
she also shortened sail. 

“ Werry good, too,” commented Porgy, “ but 
afore mornin* we’ll have to heave to, I reck- 
on, or else I don’t know nothin’ about the 
weather.” 

Mr. Drake remained on deck constantly. It 
was no night for him to turn in. At two 
o’clock he signalled the Mohawk that he 
deemed it advisable to heave his ship to on 
the starboard tack. Captain Barker responded 
that he would do the same. The lookouts on 
the Osceola were ordered to keep their eyes 
doubly wide-open and never to lose sight of 
the Mohawk’s lights. All night long the men 
in the foretop strained their eyes in the fathom- 
less gloom, but when a little before daylight a 
driving rain swept down, their labor was use- 
less. When the cold, gray dawn came, it re- 
vealed the Osceola alone, staggering against 
the thundering seas under a close-reefed main* 
topsail, a bit of spanker, and a storm-jib. 


CHAPTER XX 

AT SEA IN A WHALE-BOAT 

“ I don’t like the way this ’ere old hooker 
takes the sea,” said Porgy. 

No, nor I,” said Meredith. 

What’s the matter with her ? ” asked 
Johnny. 

“ She wallers,” answered Porgy, senten- 
tiously; and with that answer Johnny was for 
the time forced to be content. 

Lieutenant Drake was plainly none too well 
pleased with the behavior of the Osceola, and 
he stood under the shelter of the weather-rail, 
anxiously gazing at the sky up to windward, as 
if he hoped to detect some evidence of a break 
in the gale. 

“ It will hardly last more than twenty-four 
hours,” he muttered ; but shall we last that 
long ? ” 

A very heavy sea was running, and the wind 
was blowing with the force of a strong gale. 
The great waves reared themselves in beetling 
walls of writhing gray and white, and came 
165 


1 66 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

storming down with avalanche speed upon the 
ship. The howling wind caught the foaming 
crests and, tearing them off like shreds of paper, 
sent them driving down to leeward in sheets of 
spoondrift that rained across the sea in stream- 
ers of snow and pelted the Osceola like the 
outpour of a thunderstorm. Up in the tense 
cordage aloft, the wind yelled and shrieked in 
a thousand agonized voices, while below the 
hollows of the ship were filled with wild groan- 
ings, as if at every plunge she would give up 
the unequal contest and let her strained timbers 
fall apart. But the story of her struggle was 
best told by the reluctant rise of her bows to 
the under-running billows and her heavy, hope- 
less, crashing plunges into the black abysses. 
To Johnny Rodgers, who had never before 
been at sea in a great blow, it seemed as if the 
whole world had gone staggering crazy, so 
shaken were his senses by the frightful wreath- 
ing and rolling and quaking of all that he could 
see. 

At ten o’clock the carpenter’s mate came on 
deck and reported one foot of water in the 
hold. Mr. Drake at once gave orders to man 
the pumps, and the wearisome clank soon 
began its rhythmical beat of the ship’s doom. 

“ It’s no use, sir,” said the carpenter’s mate 


At Sea in a Whcde-Boat 167 

an hour later, ‘‘the water’s a-gainin’ all the 
time.” 

“ The guns must go overboard,” said Mr. 
Drake. 

Forthwith tackles were rigged and the diffi- 
cult and dangerous task of hoisting out the 
battery was begun. The sullen plunge of the 
first nine-inch gun into the boiling sea threw a 
pall of gloom over the spirits of the whole 
ship’s crew. They felt that the end was close 
at hand ; yet they never faltered, but stoically 
went on with their disheartening task. At five 
o’clock in the afternoon there was a sudden 
shift of the wind. 

“ Now, lads,” cried Mr. Drake, “ work with 
a will. The gale has blown itself out. We’ll 
have a decent sea by morning and we’ll carry 
her into port yet.” 

The crew responded with a cheer, but they 
knew he spoke against his own belief. 

“ She are a-settlin’ under us,” said Porgy in 
the mid-watch. 

“ Why don’t Mr. Drake take to the boats?” 
asked Johnny. 

“ Most on ’em’s smashed,” said Porgy ; “ but 
that’s wot it’ll come to.” 

At dawn the Osceola was rolling with the 
leaden motion of a water-logged hulk, and Mr. 


1 68 The Last Crtiise of the Mohawk 

Drake knew that she could not last much 
longer. The gale had died to a mere breath 
before midnight, and now the sea was as 
smooth as oil, though it still ran out of the 
southeast in the brimming, polished folds of a 
large swell. It was as if the ocean lay panting 
after its battle Avith the wind. 

“ Away all boats ! ” cried Mr. Drake, dashing 
his hand across his eyes. 

It was, indeed, fortunate that the prize crew 
numbered only forty men, for the Osceola had 
only three boats left in a seaworthy condi- 
tion, and one of these was a small whale-boat. 
Porgy, being sure of some consideration by 
reason of his long service, had asked Mr. 
Drake to allot all our friends places in this 
boat, and as there was no reason why the re- 
quest should not be granted, Mr. Drake gave 
his assent. Consequently, Porgy, Scipio, Mer- 
edith, Miss Mittykins, Johnny, Morton Brewer, 
and two others constituted the whale-boat’s 
crew, the other thirty-two being divided be- 
tween the two cutters. All hands were now 
set to work preparing the boats for abandon- 
ing the ship, and in the orderly manner of do- 
ing this work the solid discipline of a man-of- 
war’s crew showed itself to advantage. Every 
man had a station and special duties to per- 


At Sea ill a Whale-Boat 169 

form. Rations for ten days were taken, con- 
sisting of three-quarters of a pound of meat, 
seven-eighths of a pound of bread, and two 
quarts of water per day for each man. In each 
boat were placed two rifles with ammunition, 
together with signal flags, lanterns, answering 
pennants and other apparatus for communicat- 
ing. A compass, a box of mess-gear, the sails, 
spars, and oars, went toward filling up the 
boat. Although there was so much to be done, 
it was all accomplished with swiftness and cer- 
tainty, for men-of- war’s men are drilled in just 
such exercises as abandoning ship. In half an 
hour the boats were ready to lower. It seemed 
as if every sodden plunge of the shattered 
vessel would be her last, yet she kept afloat, as 
if loath to sink, or rest in the element with 
which she had so long victoriously contested. 
A sharp order from Mr. Drake set the blocks 
of the boat-falls rattling, and in a few minutes 
the three light craft were in the water and 
moving slowly away from the side of the ship. 

“ The boats,” said Mr. Drake, “ will move in 
line, mine on the right, Mr. Berry’s on the left, 
and Lynn’s in the centre. All movements will 
be made by orders from my boat. We are 
now about one hundred and fifty miles to the 
eastward of Cape Fear, and unless we are 


1 70 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

picked up by some vessel, we would better 
steer for that point, where we ought to fall in 
with some of our blockaders. The compass 
course is west three-quarters north, and in case 
of separation each boat will make the best of 
its way to the mouth of the Cape Fear River.” 

“ Werry good, too,” muttered Porgy; “an’ 
ef we don’t fall in with no blockader we kin 
git ashore an’ be tuk prisoners o’ war, an’ a 
werry sweet time we’ll have then, as the wid- 
der use ter say w’en she had to take squills fur 
a cold.” 

“ I don’t see why we don’t try to sail to Fort 
Monroe,” said Johnny. 

“ Don’t you ? ” said Meredith, with a smile. 

“ An’ I don’t see w’y we don’t just go a-ca- 
vortin’ aroun’ the open sea a-takin’ prizes with 
this ’ere forty -four gun frigate wot we’re 
a-cruisin’ in,” said Porgy. 

Johnny was abashed by this speech and held 
his peace, but Miss Mittykins said, mildly : 

“ It’s not such a wild scheme, Porgy. It is 
a big one, I know, but the survivors of the 
Metamora sailed six hundred miles in an open 
boat.” 

“ I didn’ say’t couldn’t be did,” said Porgy ; 
“ but it’d be takin’ big chances to try it.’’ 

“ And we have other orders,” remarked Mor- 


At Sea in a W hah’ Boat 17 1 

ton Brewer, who, being a marine, did not vent- 
ure to speak often. 

Them orders is good so long’s the boats is 
together,” responded Porgy. 

“But surely, Porgy,” said Johnny, “you 
wouldn’t think of separating from the other 
boats on purpose ! ” 

“ Not much,” replied the old seaman ; “ bein’ 
alone at sea in a open boat ain’t no Fourth o’ 
July sailin’ party, my son,” 

“The Osceola still floats,” said Miss Mitty- 
kins ; “ look at her.” 

Up to this time the three boats, having been 
pulled far enough away to avoid the danger of 
suction when the ship went down, had been 
drifting idly, their occupants waiting to see the 
last of their recent prize. The Osceola was 
now wallowing pathetically in the trough of 
the sea. She was down by the head, and as 
she slowly rose after each weary plunge, the 
water poured in great spouts out of her empty 
bridle-ports. 

“Ay, it’s a sad sight to see a ship in that 
’ere state,” said Porgy, in a low voice ; “ but 
s’posin’ the gale had ’a’ kep’ on blowin’.” 

“We have every reason to be thankful,” said 
Meredith. 

“Yes,” said Porgy, solemnly; “four hours 


172 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

more o’ that wind would ’a’ sent us all to Davy 
Jones’s locker.” 

The last word had hardly passed the seaman’s 
lips when a great cry arose from all the boats: 

“Look! Look!” 

All eyes turned to the ship. Rearing her 
shattered bow upon the luminous slope of a 
wide, gray billow, with the water running from 
every wound in her side as if it were her life- 
blood, she staggered heavily forward, like a 
man falling upon his face, into the gloomy 
vault of the next hollow. The second wave 
rolled clear over her forecastle deck, whitening 
in a living shroud of foam to the foot of her 
mainmast. Her stern rose into the air till the 
whole rudder cut its outline in sharp silhouette 
against the sky ; and then the black length of 
her rushed swiftly downward and vanished in 
a wide upward leap of triumphant spray. 

There was a deep and oppressive silence in the 
boats, until Mr. Drake shouted in cheery tones : 

“ Now, lads, all hands step masts and make 
sail.” 

A few short sighs were breathed, for it 
makes a sailor thoughtful to see a ship sink ; 
and the men went to work with a will. In a 
quarter of an hour the boats were under sail 
and running free on their course with a very 


At Sea in a Whale-Boat 


173 


light breeze. In the afternoon, however, the 
wind died out entirely, and as Mr. Drake did 
not deem it wise to work the men at the oars, 
the boats tossed idly on the dull gray sea. 
Night found them still drifting, though they 
were sufficiently close together. At ten o’clock 
a damp, raw breeze came in from the south- 
ward and eastward, and the little fleet began 
once more to move toward the distant coast. 
The whale-boat, which carried a very small 
rig, began to drop astern, but the lights in the 
other boats were dimly visible until some time 
after midnight. Then Meredith, who was at the 
helm, shook Porgy, who was taking a brief sleep. 

“ Wot’s up, mate?” asked Porgy, sitting up 
and looking around ; “ hello ! w’ere’s ’tother 
boats?” 

“ That’s just it,” said Meredith ; I suddenly 
lost sight of their lights.” 

Porgy put his hand to his beard and then said : 

W’y, my lad, can’t you feel nothin’ ? We’re 
in a drivin’ fog.” 

Let’s blow the fog-horn right away,” said 
Miss Mittykins, reaching for it. 

“ Fog swallers sound sometimes,” said Por- 
gy ; but blow away.” Miss Mittykins put 
the horn to his lips and sounded a long, hoarse 
blast. There was no answer. 


CHAPTER XXI 

HIRAM BREWER LEAVES SANCET 

In the meantime there were developments in 
the little town of Sancet. The story of Hiram 
Brewer’s treatment of Johnny Rodgers was 
not long in making itself known to every one 
in the place, and it did not tend to increase 
the man’s popularity. More than that his pro- 
nounced sympathy with the Confederate cause 
was enough to make him a marked person in a 
town which was sending its best blood to wet 
the field of battle in defense of the Union. 
Hiram Brewer walked the streets of Sancet 
with his head down. His only companion was 
Euphrastus Durand, the eminently respectable 
principal of the Tuzo School, who spent much 
of his time in whispered consultations with his 
old patron. They were often seen together, 
and their apparent desire for privacy made the 
townspeople all the more suspicious of them. 

I ain’t edzackly satersfied about them fel- 
lers,” said old Silas Pratt, the town constable. 

174 


Hiram Brewer Leaves Sancet 175 


Neither ’m I, Si,” replied Phineas Plum, 
the postmaster. 

“ Pack is,” said Silas, Pm afeard they got 
some sort o’ scheme on.” 

Wuss’n that, Si ; wuss’n that,” said Phineas, 
mysteriously. 

“ Dunno jess wot could be wuss,” said Silas. 

“ They git queer letters.” 

How d’ye know ? ” 

“ Wal, letters come wot’s been folded up 
small an’ been wet an’ been a long time on the 
road ; an’ them letters come from sommers a 
good way south.” 

Such talk as this was not favorable to Hiram 
Brewer, and it finally reached such a pitch 
that a committee of townspeople was appointed 
to call on him. 

“ Wot we are here fur,” said Silas, who was 
the spokesman of the committee, “is to ask 
you to say plain an’ straight wot your politics 
is. Are you fur the Union or ag’in it ? ” 

“ I don’t know what right you people have,” 
replied Hiram Brewer, “ to walk into my house 
and question me.” 

“ The right wot any community’s got to per- 
tect itself ag’in traitors,” said Phineas. 

“ And who dares to call me a traitor ? ” 

“ Easy, easy, gentlemen,” interposed Mr. 


1 76 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

Durand, who was present. “ Will you permit 
me to suggest, my dear sir, that you give these 
gentlemen an answer and so pacify them ? It 
is so much more edifying to see peace among 
brethren in such times of tribulation ” 

“We don’t care nothin’ about being paci- 
fied,” said Silas, sturdily. “ All we got to say 
is that there ain’t room in Sancet for no cop- 
perheads, an’ we s’pect that you two men are 
rebel sympathizers.” 

“ That’ll do ! ” exclaimed Mr. Brewer. “ This 
is my house and I’m no traitor. Now get 
out.” 

“ Sartainly, sartainly,” said Silas, who was 
supposed to know the law. “Ye got a right 
to order us out, Mr. Brewer, but we’re glad to 
hear ye say ye ain’t no traitor.” 

The committee took its departure, but once 
out in the street, Phineas shook his head and 
declared that he had no faith in Mr. Brewer’s 
fine words. And the other members of the 
committee agreed with him. So they deter- 
mined to keep a watch on the movements of 
the two men. It was about ten days later 
when a strange brigantine dropped anchor in 
Sancet Harbor and her Captain, having come 
ashore in his dingey, inquired the way to the 
home of Hiram Brewer. 


Hiram Brewer Leaves Sancet 177 

“ rd give a dollar to know wot he’s up to 
now,” said Silas. 

“ Got to watch him, that’s all,” said Phineas. 

And they watched as well as they could, but 
without learning anything definite. The brig- 
antine lay at anchor half a mile off shore and 
no curiosity-seeker Avas allowed to board her. 
At night she was as dark as a cave until all 
Sancet was abed. One loiterer on a dark night 
noticed that at eleven o’clock — a late hour for 
the little town — a single blue light was hoisted 
to her spanker peak, where it glowed signifi- 
cantly in the gloom. The next night Silas and 
Phineas stayed on watch till midnight. At 
eleven o’clock the blue light was hoisted, but, 
although they waited an hour longer, they 
saw nothing at all suspicious. 

“ By gum ! ” said Silas, them fellers ain’t 
got that light up there fur nothin’.” 

“Nope!” exclaimed Phineas. “An’ look 
there ! ” 

A quick glance showed them the dark forms 
of Hiram Brewer and Euphrastus Durand hast- 
ening toward the former’s house. The secret 
which the watchers could not detect was one 
of importance. Mr. Brewer felt that Sancet 
was no longer a safe place for him, and he had 
determined to go South and become a financial 
12 


178 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


supporter of the Confederacy. Mrs. Durand 
had died and the Tuzo School had become un- 
profitable, so Mr. Durand had decided to go 
with his patron. The only thing that weighed 
upon Mr. Brewers mind was the absence of 
his son, for the old man had one tender spot in 
his heart, and that was for his boy. But he 
had no idea where to search for him. The 
brigantine was a vessel which Mr. Brewer had 
hired. He had instructed her Captain, Burton 
Sparks, to get as small a crew as was practi- 
cable and to provision the vessel in the cheap- 
est possible manner. Perhaps the Captain in 
his desire to make a big profit exceeded his 
instructions. At any rate there was a crew of 
only eight men and the provisions laid in were 
quite indescribable. But the most important 
feature of the scheme was not laid before the 
Captain till he was at anchor in Sancet Har- 
bor. 

“ I’m not going to land in the Confederacy,” 
said Mr. Brewer, “ without a valuable offering 
to prove my sincerity. I’ve got a nice cargo 
of arms and ammunition for you. Captain, and 
we’ve got to exercise some ingenuity in getting 
it aboard.” 

I see,” said Captain Sparks. “ Where are 
the goods ? ” 


Hiram Brewer Leaves Sancet 179 

“ They’re in boxes concealed in an old barn 
on the point/* 

Then I reckon we’d better get them off a 
little at a time, by boat, late at night.” 

“ Can you command your crew to do this? ” 

“ If I promise them a little extra pay, they’ll 
work all night.” 

“ I think, my dear friend,** said Mr. Durand, 
“ that it would be discreet for us to accept the ex- 
cellent suggestion of this experienced mariner** 

Mr. Brewer did not like the idea of paying 
the crew extra, but he was compelled to agree 
to do so, for the Captain could see no other way 
to get the boxes safely aboard. On the night 
on which Silas and Phineas saw Mr. Brewer 
and Mr. Durand the last of the boxes had been 
safely stowed in the hold of the vessel and 
the blue light had been finally lowered. Mr. 
Brewer and Mr. Durand now went to the 
house of the former to get a night’s rest and to 
secure the clothing and other personal prop- 
erty which they wished to take with them. 
The brigantine was to sail at midnight the fol- 
lowing night, if the wind favored. 

“ Phineas,” said Silas, as they walked home- 
ward, to-morrow night, instead o’ lyin’ around 
here, let’s git a boat an* have a close look at 
that brigantine.’* 


i8o The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ That’s a good idee, Si ; I’ll have my row- 
boat here.” 

At 10.30 the following night the two watch- 
ers, with muffled oars, pulled off toward the 
brigantine. She was as dark and as silent as a 
tomb. 

I guess we’re too early,” said Phineas. 

So they rowed back and lay alongside a pier, 
waiting to see the blue light go up. Of course 
they were disappointed. But at 11.30 they 
heard the sounds of rattling blocks and creak- 
ing cordage. 

“ By gum ! ” exclaimed Phineas, “ she’s get- 
tin’ under way.” 

Pull hard ! ” ejaculated Silas. 

The two men rowed out to the brigantine 
and found that their suspicions were correct. 
Sail was being made on the vessel. At the 
same moment they discovered that a boat was 
alongside of her and that men were boarding 
her. As they approached, they were met with 
a stern hail : 

“ Boat ahoy ! Keep off there, or you’ll get 
hurt.” 

“ We ain’t doin’ you no harm ! ” said Phineas, 
still rowing. 

I know that voice,” exclaimed Mr. Brewer, 
who was now on the brigantine’s deck. “ You 


Hiram Brewer Leaves Sancet i8i 

men go back to town and go to bed. If you 
undertake to come alongside of my vessel, I’ll 
blow you out of the water.” 

My dear sir,” said Mr. Durand, pray be 
calm.” 

“ I’m through being calm ! I’ve been watched 
and dogged till I’ll stand it no longer.” 

‘‘ Mr. Brewer,” called Phineas, “ we suspect 
that you’re goin’ South with arms.” 

It’s none of your business where I’m going.” 

Phineas and Silas pulled two or three strokes 
nearer. At that moment the brigantine’s head 
had fallen off so that her headsails began to 
draw and she moved forward. The two men 
in the rowboat, hardly knowing what they 
were trying to do, dashed forward toward the 
lee side of the vessel. The next instant the 
sharp report of a pistol rang out. 

Keep off!” shouted Mr. Brewer; “there’s 
more where that came from.” 

“ We’ll send a Union gunboat after you ! ” 
cried Silas. 

“ Send her when you like ! ” was the reply ; 
“we’ll be on the sea and she’ll have to find us 
before she can take us.” 

And the brigantine, with all her canvas 
drawing, swam swiftly out of sight in the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER XXII 

AN UNEXPECTED OBSTACLE 

The wind was over the port quarter and the 
brigantine went smoothly along at an eight- 
knot gait. Mr. Brewer and Mr. Durand, hav- 
ing seen the last of Phirieas and Silas, went to 
the Captain’s cabin, where they sat down to 
indulge in a cooling draught of ale after the 
warm experiences of the evening. The bever- 
age soon made them drowsy and they went to 
their state-rooms. When they awoke the sun 
was streaming in at the ports and the long 
steady roll of the vessel told them they were 
well out at sea. The steward had an inviting 
breakfast on the cabin table and Mr. Brewer 
was prepared to do justice to it. As for Mr. 
Durand, when he saw the steaming food, he 
turned pale and decided that his appetite 
needed to be encouraged by a walk on deck. 
After breakfast Mr. Brewer found him there 
leaning over the taffrail and looking extremely 
unhappy. 


182 


An Unexpected Obstacle 183 

“ My dear sir,” he said, “ the instability of 
these undulating waters troubles me greatly.” 

“Durand, you’re sea-sick. You’ll get over 
it in a day or two,” was Mr. Brewer’s sympa- 
thetic response. 

“ Do you really think so ? I feared that I 
was about to die,” groaned the poor school- 
master, who had never been at sea before. 

Of course Mr. Durand did not die, but on 
the contrary lived in a state of perpetual tor- 
ment, for he could not become fully accus- 
tomed to the unexpected movements of the 
vessel. It was a slow voyage, too, for head- 
winds and calms delayed the brigantine’s prog- 
ress. Mr. Brewer walked the deck in angry 
impatience. 

“ Why didn’t I have sense enough to hire a 
steamer? ” he said. 

“ But, my dear sir,” expostulated Mr. Du- 
rand, “ think how expensive that would have 
been.” 

“No more so than having these precious 
sailors eating their heads off at sea when we 
ought to be in port. I half believe Captain 
Sparks knew that we were going to be de- 
layed.” 

“ That really seems to me to be quite impos- 
sible.” 


184 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ If he didn’t know it, why did he make me 
lay in provisions for two months.” 

“ Merely, my esteemed friend, as a measure 
of necessary precaution. You know we are at 
the mercy of wind and wave — or rather, I 
should say, in the keeping of Divine Provi- 
dence ” 

“Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Brew- 
er. “ Anyhow, the food that they’re eating 
will not make them fat.” 

“How’s that, my dear sir? Is it not of a 
nourishing nature ? ” 

“ It’ll keep them alive and working, and 
that’s all 1 care for ; but they will not find their 
meals a feast.” 

“ Really, I am much concerned at hearing 
this, my dear sir.” 

“Why? What difference does it make to 
you? You don’t have to eat the stuff, do 
you?” 

“No, no; pray be calm, sir. I have read 
that sometimes sailors who are ill-fed behave 
very badly.” 

“Rubbish, all rubbish! You’ve been read- 
ing some silly sea-yarn. Why, those fellows 
don’t know what good food means.” 

At that moment there was a sudden bustle 
forward and an outbreak of loud words. Cap- 


An Unexpected Obstacle 185 

tain Sparks was there and the two men on the 
after-deck saw him raise a heavy belaying-pin 
and knock down a seaman named Jared Lure. 

Lie there, you cub ! ” cried the Captain. 

Lie there till you’re ready to attend to your 
work and stop skulking. Now, then, my lads, 
aloft and loose the royal.” 

The men whose duty it was to obey that 
order moved so slowly that the Captain in- 
dulged in helpless profanity, and Mr. Durand 
turned pale with anxiety. The fact was that 
the Captain had for two or three days past 
noted signs of discontent among the men and 
was trying to restore submission in his own 
peculiar way. If he could have peeped into 
the forecastle that evening when his crew was 
at supper he might have learned a good deal. 

Look here!” exclaimed Jared Lure, who 
bore a heavy bruise across his forehead, I’d 
like to know what sort o’ stuff they call this.” 

That there’s tea, Jared,” replied another 
seaman, with a hoarse laugh, don’t you see the 
leaves? They’re big enough.” 

“ They look like tobacco-leaves to me,” said 
another. 

An’ I’ll swear they taste like ’em,” said a 
third. ^ 

No they don’t, or I wouldn’t mind ’em,” 


1 86 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

said Jared. “ They taste like sawdust, they do. 
An’ look at them biscuit ! What’s in ’em ? ” 

“ Never mind the name o’t, Jared.” 

“Well, how long are you fellows goin* to 
stand it? Poor grub an’ shorthanded makes a 
mighty tough combine fur sailors, I say, an’ 
I’ve got enough.” 

“ So’ve I,” said a second seaman, “ an’ now 
that the old man’s taken to bein’ handy with 
his hands I’m ready to do anythin’ that any- 
body else will.” 

“ Well, hold on,” said Peter Black, the old- 
est of the crew ; “ let’s give ’em a fair show.” 

“ How?” 

“ Go an’ ask the skipper ef he can’t put up 
some better grub for us.” 

“ Much good that’ll do,” said Jared. “ They 
aint got it in the ship.” 

However, it was finally decided that the 
next morning Peter should take a sample of 
the breakfast aft and make a respectful com- 
plaint. If that did not have any effect, the 
men were to consider what was to be done 
next. Accordingly in the morning Peter went 
aft with it and told the Captain that the men 
could not be expected to work on that kind of 
food, especially as the brigantine was sailing 
with a short crew. 


A 71 Unexpected Obstacle 187 

What do you say to that ? ” asked the Cap- 
tain, turning to Mr. Brewer, who had come on 
deck. 

“ All rubbish ! The food is plenty good 
enough for anyone but a lot of lazy beggars.” 

“ My dear sir,” exclaimed Mr. Durand, in a 
whisper, “ such language is positively danger- 
ous.” 

“You hear what the owner says?” said Cap- 
tain Sparks ; “ now get forward with you and 
don’t let me hear any more grumbling. The 
next man that objects to his food will be treat- 
ed as a mutineer and put in irons.” 

“That’s the way to talk!” declared Mr. 
Brewer, while Mr. Durand shook his head in 
emphatic protest. 

Peter went forward and reported the result 
of his protest. The men said little at the time, 
but they cast many angry looks at the three per- 
sons on the quarter deck. During the remain- 
der of the day the work of the brigantine was 
carried on in a most careless and slovenly fashion, 
yet it was not so badly neglected as to give the 
Captain an excuse for taking extreme measures. 
Mr. Durand, however, was in a sad state of 
mind. He declared it to be his belief that they 
were on the brink of a precipice and that the 
first unwise word would lead to their downfall. 


1 88 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Rubbish, sir ; all rubbish!” exclaimed Mr. 
Brewer. 

“ My friend,” said Captain Sparks, “ sailors 
always grumble. I have something in my hip- 
pocket that will restore order in five minutes 
if any disturbance arises.” 

But Mr. Durand remained in a doubting and 
uncomfortable state of mind. About nine 
o’clock that night, just as the vessel had set- 
tled down into the quiet run of the first watch, 
a series of unearthly, muffled yells came from 
the forecastle. Mr. Durand nearly fainted, 
but when the Captain started forward and Mr. 
Brewer followed, the school-master felt im- 
pelled to go also, rather than remain in the 
cabin with no other protection than the cabin- 
steward, a mere lad. The three men found the 
whole crew assembled around the dark and 
yawning mouth of the fore-hatch, gazing into 
the blackness with solemn faces. 

** What’s the matter here ? ” demanded Cap- 
tain Sparks. 

“We don’t know, sir,” answered Peter. 

“ Who was that yelling ? ” 

“None on us can tell, sir. We’re all here, 
and the yells came from down there.” 

The Captain looked around and saw that the 
members of the crew were all present. 


A 71 Unexpected Obstacle 189 

“ Why haven’t some of you gone down to 
find out what caused the noise ? ” 

“ Bless you, sir, none on us would go down 
there for love or money. Them screams didn’t 
come from nothin’ mortal.” 

‘‘My dear friend,” said Mr. Durand, “you 
certainly do not believe in ghosts?” 

“ Mebbe you don’t, sir, and so perhaps you’ll 
go down.” 

“ It would — ah — hardly be becoming in me 
to assume so much — ah — authority.” 

“ I’ll go myself,” said the Captain, shortly. 
“ Bring me a lantern.” 

The lantern was brought and the Captain 
dropped down the hatch. As soon as he had 
gone well forward, Jared Lure said: 

“ Perhaps you two gentlemen ’d better go 
down and help the Captain.” 

Before Mr. Brewer and Mr. Durand could 
protest, they were seized and forced down the 
hatch, and the next instant the cover was 
slammed down and fastened. 

“Now,” said Jared, “I reckon we’ll all go 
aft and eat good grub in the cabin.” 

The crew of the brigantine had mutinied. 


CHAPTER XXIII 
JACK TARS ALL ADRIFT 

When Jared and his friends had seated 
themselves in the cabin, the steward was sum- 
moned. 

“ See here, you son of a sea-cook,” said Jared, 
“ we want you to understand that hereafter 
we are the captain o’ this vessel, and we’re 
goin’ to feed on the best you’ve got.” 

“ All right, sir,” said the steward, who was 
quaking with fear. 

That’s right ; be respectful and you’ll keep 
a whole skin,” said Peter. 

“Oh, I’ll be respectful,” said the lad. 

“ And now you just get to work an’ set out a 
good honest meal here fur us.” 

“ Right away, sir, right away.” 

The man at the wheel looked down through 
the skylight and said : 

“Say, you fellers, don’t forget that I ain’t 
had nothin* yet, an’ that somebody’s got to 
relieve me.” 


190 


Jack Tars All Adrift 191 

“ Oh, you shut up ! ” bawled one of the sea- 
men. 

‘‘Yes, but if I don’t git took care of. Til let 
the wheel go.” 

“ Well, let her go. Who the dickens cares } ” 

“ Hold on ! Hold on ! ” cried Peter. “ This 
sort o’ thing won’t do.” 

“ Not by a jugful,” added Jared. “ We got 
to have order in this here ship, now we got her 
into our possession.” 

“ You kin have all the order you want,” cried 
the man at the wheel, “so long as I get my grub.” 

“ You’ll get your grub all right,” said Jared. 

“ An’ you’ll get relieved, too,” said Peter. 

The steward arrived pretty soon with some 
cold ham, pickles, and other delicacies of a sea- 
larder, and placed them on the table. 

“Why don’t you give us somethin’ hot?” 
yelled one of the men. 

“ Gentlemen,” said the frightened steward, 
“ I’d be very glad to serve you some hot soup 
if you’d wait for it a little, but I thought you 
were all in a great hurry.” 

“Well,” said Jared, “you go ahead and get 
the hot soup ready, and while you’re at it we’ll 
tackle the cold ham and stuff.” 

“ That ain’t the way to eat a dinner,” said 
Peter, “ meat first and soup after ? ” 


192 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ It’s good enough for us,” said one of the 
other seamen ; “ we ain’t no swells at all from 
Fifth Avnoo.” 

The steward, who had been forward to the 
galley, now entered and said : 

“ I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but the 
Captain is pounding on the deck forward most 
dreadful, and he says he’d like to speak to 
somebody.” 

“ Who’s goin’ to be spoke to?” asked one of 
the men. 

“ Nobody,” cried another. “ Let him pound 
away till he gets tired. He’s made us work 
till we was tired pretty often.” 

“ Hold on ! Hold on ! ” said Peter. “ Let’s 
find out what’s a-worryin’ him.” 

“ Not till we has our grub,” said another sea- 
man. 

“ That’s the talk. Let him wait,” were the 
cries. 

So the steward proceeded to serve the hot 
soup, which he had prepared, and the sailors 
made a hearty meal. 

“ An’ now, steward,” said Jared, “ has the 
gent that was Captain o’ this brigantine got 
any good cigars stowed away in his lockers ? ” 

“ No, sir, but Mr. Brewer has plenty.” 

“ Well, they’ll do well enough for us, I guess.” 


193 


yack Tars All Adrift 

“ Break ’em out, steward,” cried the seamen. 

The steward went and fetched a box of cigars, 
which he opened and passed around. The men 
were soon engaged in blowing clouds of smoke, 
and one hand was despatched to relieve the 
man at the wheel. As he arose to go, he said : 

What’s the course ? ” 

The men sat bolt upright in their chairs and 
stared blankly at one another. 

Blowed if I know ! ” exclaimed Jared. 

An’ I’m sure I don’t,” said Peter. 

‘‘ Here, Squilgee ! ” cried one of the seamen 
through the skylight to the man at the wheel, 

what’s the course ? ” 

‘‘ South three-quarters west an* be blowed to 
you, you gluttons ! ” yelled the helmsman. 

“Good!” ejaculated Jared. “Go up an’ 
steer that, old grampus.” 

“Aye, aye, mate,” said the man, starting, 
“ but I never heard o’ steerin’ one course the 
whole v’yage.” 

The man went out and the helmsman shortly 
afterward entered the cabin and attacked his 
dinner with a will. 

“You fellers is a swell lot with yer cigars, 
ain’t ye ? ” he said. 

“Well,” exclaimed Peter, pitching his through 
an open port, “ I’ll be keelhauled if I like a 
13 


194 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

stick o’ baccy except fur a chaw. Steward, 
got any good pipe-baccy ? ” 

'‘Yes, sir,” answered the nervous lad, "the 
Captain has some first-rate smoking-tobacco.” 

" Break it out lively, then.” 

Most of the men threw away their cigars 
when they found that smoking-tobacco could 
be obtained, and they looked much more like 
themselves with their old black pipes between 
their hairy jaws. 

"Nor, who’s a-goin’ forrad to talk to the old 
man?” asked Peter. 

" W’y don’t you go yourself? ” demanded one. 

" No,” answered Peter, " I ain’t got no call 
fur talkin’. Let Jared go.” 

" Yes, Jared, Jared ! He’s our man ! ” cried 
the sailors. 

This was just what Jared had been waiting 
for. 

" Well,” he said, " before I go. I’d like to 
know just how much authority I’m to have. 
We ain’t got no officers now.” 

The men smoked in silence for a few min- 
utes, and then Peter, with some deliberation, 
said : 

" I reckon, men, that we got to have some 
kind o’ head or tail to this ship’s company, so 
I move that we elect Jared Lure our skipper.” 


195 


Jack Tars All Adrift 

Right ! Good ! Jared's the man ! 

Then all in favor o’ Jared bein’ skipper say 
‘ aye 

A resounding “ aye ” was the response, and 
there were no negative votes. 

“ That matter bein’ disposed of, I ’spose we 
may as well let Jared manage this business,” 
said Peter. 

I’ll begin,” said Jared, by appointin’ you 
my first mate. The brigantine ain’t had one 
before.” 

This appointment met with general approval, 
and Jared arose to go and parley with the im- 
prisoned Captain. The conversation was brief 
and to the point. 

If I let you out,” said Jared, what guar- 
antee has the crew that you’ll feed ’em decent, 
not overwork ’em, an* give no information 
about ’em when we get to port? ” 

“ You’ll have to take my word for it,” an- 
swered the Captain. 

What do you mean to do with my brigan- 
tine!” demanded Mr. Brewer. ‘'Remember 
that you have committed a crime in seizing her.” 

“ My esteemed friend,” said Mr. Durand, 
“ conciliatory measures will surely be the 
wisest.” 

“ Tell the school-master to shut up,” said 


196 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


Jared. As for you, Mr. Brewer, you’re our 
prisoner and you’d better be respectful.” 

If you men will release us,” said the Cap- 
tain, “ we’ll not give any information.” 

‘‘And you’ll give us the same food as you 
have in the cabin ? ” 

“ Preposterous ! ” exclaimed Mr. Brewer. 
“ It would be ruinous to me.” 

“You hear what the owner says?” said the 
Captain. “You had better release us. You 
don’t dare to carry this vessel into any port. 
You’d be convicted of mutiny at once.” 

“ That’s our lookout,” said Jared. 

“ Y ou haven’t any one to navigate the brigan- 
tine,” said the Captain. 

“ That’s our lookout, too,” said Jared. “But 
we’ll let you out if you’ll take her where we 
tell you to.” 

The Captain knew they had no navigator, 
and he thought he saw signs of indecision in 
Jared’s speech. He answered : 

“ No, she must go to her port of destination.” 

“ That won’t do,” said Jared, sharply. “ You 
stay where you are.” 

So saying, he returned to the cabin and re- 
ported the result of the parley to the men. 

“We haven’t no navigator, that’s a fact,” said 
Peter. 


Jack Tars All Adrift 197 

“ Why can’t we steer west till we make the 
land ? ” said one of the men. 

“ That’s too dangerous,” answered Jared. 

‘‘Then,” said Peter, solemnly, “there don’t 
seem to be nothin’ fur us to do but to go on 
steerin’ south three-quarters west.” 

And they all sat and stared stupidly at one 
another. 


CHAPTER XXIV 
A DRIFTING WRECK 

‘‘Jess wot I s’pected,” said Porgy. 

“ What’s that ?” asked Meredith. 

“ The fog’s a-swallerin’ the sound.” 

“ Do you think the other boats are close 
enough to hear us?” asked Johnny. 

“ My son,” said Porgy, “ preehaps you’ve 
heerd that old sayin’ about the kind o’ pusson 
wot kin ax more questions in a minute than a 
wise man kin answer in a hour. As the widder 
use ter say ” 

“ Oh, Porgy, please ! ” exclaimed Miss Mit- 
tykins, “ let the widow rest a little while.” 

“ You blow the fog-horn ! ” 

Miss Mittykins blew another long blast, 
which echoed dismally against the dead-wall 
of the gray fog. 

“ I reckon it are no good,” muttered Porgy. 

“ Mebbe we done see ’em w’en de fawg lift,” 
said Scipio. 

“ Yes, an’ mebbe we done don’t,” snorted 
Porgy. 


A Drifting Wreck 199 

“If we don’t, what shall we do?” asked 
Johnny. 

“ Steer for Fort Monroe, I vote,” said Miss 
Mittykins, in a calm voice. 

“ Wagh ! ” exclaimed Porgy, in great disgust. 
“ You children don’t know nothin’ an’ so ye 
don’t fear nothin’. We better steer jess the 
way we was told to.” 

“ And run the chance of being captured by 
a rebel ship,” said Meredith. 

“ That are better’n bein’ drowned, ain’t it?” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” said Miss Mitty- 
kins; “ I’ve never been either myself.” 

“ Hark ! ” exclaimed Johnny, leaning far over 
the gunwale of the boat. 

They all sat motionless and intent, but there 
was no sound save that of the water rippling 
under the boat’s forefoot. 

“ I thought I heard the sound of a fog-horn 
far off,” said Johnny. “ There ! There it is 
again ! ” 

“ 1 heerd that,” said Porgy ; “ but it warn’t 
no fog-horn.” 

“ What was it then?” demanded Meredith. 

“ It war a porpoise a-blowin’.” 

They all relapsed into silence, and sat damp 
and dejected in their garment of mist. The 
little boat drove gently along before the wind. 


200 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

and Porgy sat with one hand feeling the tiller, 
and the other supporting his chin as he stared 
moodily into the compass-bowl. The three 
youngsters of the boat’s crew could not realize 
the gravity of their situation, because the 
weather was quiet and the boat was moving 
easily. To be sure, there was still a heavy 
swell, but it was broad and smooth and the 
boat rose and fell almost imperceptibly. 

“ I wish the fog would clear up,” said Johnny, 
disconsolately. 

“ Of course you do, and so do the rest of us,” 
said Morton. “You don’t suppose we enjoy 
this sort of thing, do you ? ” 

“ Be keerful, marine, be keerful,” said Porgy. 
“ Don’t git disrespectful to a sailor man.” 

In spite of their situation they could not help 
laughing at the notion of Johnny’s being a 
“ sailor man.” 

“ I don’t know what influence you have with 
the elements,” said Miss Mittykins, “ but I 
think your wish is going to be gratified.” 

“ The lad’s right,” exclaimed Porgy, looking 
around him ; “ we’ll soon find out whether any- 
thin’s in sight.” 

It was broad daylight now and the rising sun 
had begun to burn through the mist. The fog 
began to gather into shreds of writhing smoke 


201 


A Drifting Wreck 

and to drift away to leeward before the gentle 
wind. Here and there patches of blue showed 
overhead, and the ripples occasionally sparkled 
with a flash of sunlight. The spirits of the 
little party in the boat rose with this change in 
the weather. 

“ With such weather as this we can keep the 
sea a month,” said Meredith. 

That’s true enough,” answered Miss Mitty- 
kins. 

Wot’s the good ?” inquired Porgy. 

Mebbe we git pick up by a Union ship,” 
said Scipio. 

“ Humph !” was all the reply that Porgy made. 

As the fog cleared away, the breeze died out 
entirely, and left the little boat rising and fall- 
ing on broad, glassy swells in the pitiless glare 
of a broiling sun. 

I’d like to jump overboard and have a 
swim,” said Meredith. 

“That’s a good idea,” said Johnny; “why 
shouldn’t we ? ” 

“Avast there!” said Porgy. “Ye don’t 
know nothin’. Jess look yonder.” 

They turned their glances in the direction in- 
dicated by the old seaman’s gesture, and saw 
the triangular black fin of a shark rising above 
the water. 


202 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ I guess I don’t want to swim,” said Mere- 
dith, reaching over the side of the boat for a 
handful of water, which he poured upon his 
head. 

“ Take a drink, lad,” said Porgy. ‘‘We got 
enough water to last four days here.” 

“ And plenty to eat, too,” said Miss Mittykins. 

“ But the heat of the sun is dreadful,” said 
Morton. 

“Ye feels it more w’en you’re so close to the 
water,” said Porgy ; “but I reckon as how we’ll 
git a breeze from the south’ard by arternoon, 
an’ then we’ll be more comf’table.” 

“ What’s that away down there ? ’’ asked 
Johnny, who had been straining his gaze toward 
the southern horizon. 

The little boat’s company turned their heads 
and studied the object, which appeared to be a 
mere black spot on the distant rim of the sea. 

“ Looks like a rock,” said Meredith. 

“ Or more like a boat,” said Miss Mittykins. 

“ Dat’s what ’tis ! ” exclaimed Scipio. “ I see 
um move on de swell. It’s one o’ dem odder 
boats.” 

“ How’d she git so fur to’ the south’ard ? ” 
demanded Porgy. 

“Dunno, chile, dunno,” said Scipio; “but 
dat’s a boat, suah ! ” 


A Drifting Wreck 


203 


“ She can’t be more than three or four miles 
away,” said Meredith ; “ why not pull slowly 
down toward her?” 

“ I reckon that might be done, if you feel like 
rowin’,” answered Porgy. 

“ I do,” said Johnny, and Miss Mittykins 
seized an oar. The next minute the whale- 
boat was moving steadily southward, propelled 
by that slow, swinging stroke that men-o’-war’s 
men know so well how to pull. When she had 
advanced about a mile, Porgy said : 

That ain’t no boat.” 

“What on earth is it, then?” asked Johnny. 

“ It are a ship — a wreck,” answered Porgy. 

They all turned and studied the distant ob- 
ject, and came to the conclusion that Porgy 
was right. A light breeze now sprang up, and 
so Johnny said : 

“ I vote we go and have a look at her.” 

“ It won’t take us much out of our way,” said 
Meredith. 

Porgy, who thought that they might obtain 
extra supplies from the wreck, assented, and the 
whale-boat was headed toward her under sail. 
The little crew were silent for a time under the 
influence of those serious thoughts which the 
sight of a wreck at sea always causes. As they 
approached the vessel, it was seen that she was 


204 Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

a brig or schooner, both of whose masts had 
been carried away less than ten feet above the 
deck. Her rail was smashed into splinters, and 
her bowsprit had been broken short off at the 
gammoning. The dangling boat-falls at her 
empty stern-davits told that she had been aban- 
doned. 

‘‘A couple of bloomin’ rotten sticks,” said 
Porgy, surveying the stumps of the masts, 
“ wot went overboard in a squall, I reckon, an’ 
left the vessel to waller helpless in the trough.” 

“ What made them abandon her ? ” asked 
Johnny; ** couldn’t they get a jury rig on her 
and work her into port ? ” 

“ Hear the old sailor ! ” laughed Porgy. 
“ Preehaps they didn’t have no spare spars nor 
canvas, an’ they had to cut their own adrift 
arter they went over, to keep ’em from punchin* 
holes into her.” 

“Are we going to board her?” asked Miss 
Mittykins. 

“ In course,” answered Porgy. 

“ Mebbe we git plenty good grub,” said 
Scipio. 

“ And I wouldn’t mind a chance to stretch 
my legs a bit,” said Morton. 

“ We’ll have a bloomin’ dress-parade fur you, 
my sojer friend,” growled Porgy. 


A Drifting Wreck 205 

The sails of the whale-boat were furled and 
her masts unstepped, and she was rowed under 
the stern of the vessel, where the bowman 
caught one of the dangling falls. Miss Mitty- 
kins, with a laugh, danced lightly forward and 
climbed the fall to the taffrail. 

“Wait a minute!” he cried, as the others 
were about to follow ; “ Til throw you a line 
and haul you under the lee main chains.” 

The boy did as he promised and in a few 
moments all were aboard. 

“ Let the boat drop astern,” said Porgy, “an’ 
make her fast there.” 

Johnny, who had taken the line from Miss 
Mittykins, executed Porgy’s order. Mittykins 
was dancing a hornpipe, and Scipio was shaking 
with laughter, while Morton walked up and 
down stiffly. They all felt the effects of being 
so long cramped in a small boat. 

“ An’ now,” said Porgy, “ let’s overhaul her 
stores. She seems tight, an’ I reckon we’ll 
find things good.” 

All hands went below, and, as the old sea- 
man had predicted, found plenty of sound and 
sweet provisions and water. It was evident 
that the vessel had not been abandoned long 
and that her crew had departed in a hurry. A 
brief consultation led to the decision that they 


2 o 6 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

should stock the whale-boat and then endeavor 
to make their way to the coast. 

“Run aft,” said Porgy to Meredith, “and 
get the boat alongside.” 

Meredith went to the stern, where he paused, 
threw up his hands, and uttered a loud cry. 

“ What’s up ! ” shouted Porgy. 

“ The boat ! ” he answered ; “ the boat is 
gone ! ” 


CHAPTER XXV 

WAITING FOR A SAIL 

A HURRIED glance showed the little group 
the whale-boat drifting peacefully before the 
gentle breeze, half a mile away. Not a word 
was spoken for fully a minute, while Johnny, 
who had made her fast so carelessly, sat down 
with his head in his hands. Suddenly he 
sprang up. 

Why,” he exclaimed, I can easily swim to 
her. I’ve covered double the distance often.” 

The boy started to remove his clothing, but 
Porgy seized his arm. 

“ My son,” he said, I reckon you furgit 
about that shark’s fin.” 

“Oh, Johnny!” said Morton, “you mustn’t 
do it.” 

“Guess we done bettah stay right hyar,” 
said Scipio, “ till we git tuk off. Plenty good 
grub.” 

“ Give that heathen grub,” said Porgy, “ an’ 
he’s all right.” 

“ Pretty sensible, too,” said Meredith. 

207 


2o8 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ It’s all my fault,” began Johnny ; but Por- 
gy stopped him. 

“ No, ’tisn’t, lad ; it’s mine. I’d ort ’a’ 
knowed better’n to send a green hand to make 
a boat fast. Howsumever, as the widder used 
ter say, ef ye can’t git pie, eat bread. This ’ere 
wessel under us are bread.” 

“ You’re all too good about it,” said Johnny. 

“ Stow that now,” said Meredith. Where’s 
Scipio?” 

“ In the galley, starting a fire,” said Morton. 

Hurrah! We’ll have hot coffee pretty 
soon ! ” cried Miss Mittykins, dancing another 
hornpipe. 

“ I wonder now ef we can’t git some kind o* 
rig onto this ’ere hooker an’ make her move,” 
muttered Porgy. 

Another search was made over the entire 
vessel, but nothing was found that would serve 
as a spar. 

“ It are a clear case o’ driftin’ an’ waitin’,” 
said Porgy. 

Suppose heavy weather should come on,” 
said Meredith. 

“ Then we must rig a drag, I reckon. Some 
o’ them big boxes below with weight in to sink 
’em would work all right an’ keep her head to 
the sea,” answered the old sailor. 


Wait mg for a Sail 


209 


De high golly, chillen ! ” cried Scipio, from 
the caboose forward ; “ come hyar an’ git yo’ 
insides het up.” 

The little company, having no seaman’s 
duties to perform aboard the drifting hulk, 
went forward and found that Scipio had pre- 
pared some steaming coffee. As they drank it 
their spirits rose. 

“ Dat plenty good, humph ?” cried Scipio. 

“ That are wot it are,” said Porgy, nodding 
his head approvingly. 

“ I tell you, Scipio,” exclaimed Meredith, 
“ you’re a genuine brick.” 

'‘Brick!” said Johnny; "don’t call him a 
brick. Bricks sink.” 

They all laughed heartily at Johnny’s little 
jest, for they were in a mood now to laugh at 
anything. But when they had finished the 
coffee, Porgy called them all to attention, and 
said : 

" There ain’t no tellin’ how long we’re a- 
goin’ to be a-floatin’ aroun’ on this ’ere old 
hooker, an’ I reckon as how we’d better make 
up our minds about wot we’re a-goin’ fur to do.” 

" Why,” said Meredith, " you told us that it 
would be simply a case of drifting and wait- 
ing, didn’t you ? ” 

" Werry good ; but s’posin’ we’ have to drift 
14 


210 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

an* wait fur about a month; don’t you think 
you might git putty tired o’ sittin’ aroun’ doin’ 
nothin’ ?” 

“ Yes, I guess I would,” said Meredith. 

“Then le’s decide on doin’ somethin’.” 

“ Well,” said Johnny, “ someone ought to be 
on watch all the time for a sail.” 

“ In course,” said Porgy, gravely ; “ we’ll put 
two hands on at a time fur reg’lar watches.” 

“ And,” said Mittykins, “ we ought to have 
some way of attracting attention if we sight a 
vessel far off.” 

“ Smoke ! ” cried Scipio. “ Smoke fotch him. 
He think us afire, an’ bear down.” 

“ How shall we make the smoke ? ” asked 
Morton. 

“ That are no werry hard matter, my marine 
friend,” said Porgy. “We gets up some o’ 
them boxes wot’s b’low, breaks ’em up, puts a 
leetle water onto ’em an’ sets ’em afire.” 

“Where?” 

“ On the deck, o’ course. W’ere’d you 
s’pose, down in the water?” 

This time the company laughed at Morton, 
who, being a marine, was now quite accus- 
tomed to the ridicule of sailors. But his ques- 
tion was not a foolish one, for even Miss Mit- 
tykins supported it. 


Waiting for a Sail 211 

“ Won’t that set the deck afire ?” he asked. 

‘‘ Preehaps,” answered Porgy, “ but ef we got 
a wessel bearin’ down fur to take us off, wot’ll 
we care! ” 

“ Suppose,” said Meredith, “ that she pays no 
attention to our signal and we are afire ; what 
then ? ” 

‘‘ Surely,” exclaimed Johnny, “ they wouldn’t 
pass us if we were burning I ” 

Porgy shook his head solemnly. 

“ Not ef she flew the right flag,” he said ; 
“ but some on ’em ain’t noted fur kindness at 
sea. No, I reckon we got to be forehanded 
ag’in gettin’ the hull afire.” 

“ I fix him ! I fix him ! ” cried Scipio. “Dere 
lot o’ sheet-iron on de inside de caboose. We 
pull dat off, an’ put ’t on de deck.” 

“ An’ werry good, too,” said Porgy, emphat- 
ically. 

Miss Mittykins and Johnny were detailed to 
watch-duty, one on top of the cabin and the 
other on top of the caboose, those being the 
highest practicable points left on the vessel. 
There they paced up and down sweeping the 
empty horizon with eager eyes, while the 
others set to work to strip the iron sheathing 
from the walls of the cook-house. When that 
task was completed, they rigged a tackle to 


212 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

hoist some of the boxes from below. That was 
a difficult task, as there were no spars aloft to 
give the necessary purchase ; but a sailor’s 
resources are equal to almost any problem 
aboard ship. A kedge anchor was found for- 
ward, and the stock was taken off the shank. 
A hole was cut in the deck beside the fore- 
hatch, and the shank of the anchor set up in it. 
The arm now made a tolerable spar to rig a 
tackle on, and so the boxes were hoisted out of 
the hold. Meredith and Morton chopped them 
up, and in about two hours all was ready for 
building a signal-fire in case a vessel should 
heave in sight. Johnny and Miss Mittykins 
were relieved by Meredith and one of the 
other men, but their watch proved unfruitful. 
The day wore on slowly, but not a sail of any 
kind was seen. 

“ Might as well be down in the South Pa- 
cific,” grumbled Meredith. 

Anyhow,” said Porgy, “ we’re mos’ likely 
a-driftin’ to the norrad all the time, ’cos I s’pose 
we’re in the stream.” 

‘‘ What stream ? ” inquired Johnny. 

“ The gulf stream, he means,” said Miss 
Mittykins. 

Watches were maintained throughout the 
night, but not a light, except the stars, was seen. 


Waiting for a Sail 213 

“Got plenty good grub, anyhow,” said 
Scipio, with an air of complete satisfaction. 

“ That are a blessin’, too,” murmured Porgy. 

The second day was as barren as the first. 
Not a sail was seen. The rim of the horizon 
was as clear and as hard as the sharp edge of a 
sheet of glass. The only object in all the wide 
expanse of waters was the rolling, mastless 
hulk on which they were helplessly drifting. 
As the first light of the third day brought out 
the yellow brink of the eastern sea, the clear 
voice of Miss Mittykins cried : 

“ Steamer on the starboard bow ! ” 

In an instant the little crew was on deck in 
a state of feverish excitement. 

“ W’ere are she ? ” cried Porgy, sweeping 
the horizon with his keen eyes. “ W’y, it are 
only smoke ! ” 

Well, a column of smoke like that means a 
steamer, doesn’t it ? ” said the boy. 

“ Sure ’nuff ! ” exclaimed Scipio. “ Now we 
make smoke, too.” 

An’ they’ll see ’t an’ think it are the smoke 
o’ another steamer an’ pay no attention,” said 
Porgy. 

“ But let us try it,” cried Johnny, running to 
fire the wood. 

In a few minutes, a column of thick brown 


214 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

smoke was rolling upward. For an hour they 
watched the distant column, but instead of 
growing higher, it sank and sank, till it finally 
disappeared behind the sea. 

‘‘ She were a-goin’ to the east’ard,” said 
Porgy, with an air of great disappointment. 

^‘One o’ dem smaht English blockade - run- 
nahs homewa’d boun’,” said Scipio. 

The rest were silent, for they were beginning 
to be sadly discouraged. Porgy noted this, 
and said, briskly : 

Don’ get down, lads ; the sea’s got to show 
a sail pretty soon. It can’t go bare all the time.” 

They passed the morning watch, as they 
were accustomed to, in washing down decks 
and generally cleaning ship. In fact, Porgy 
insisted on carrying out, as far as possible, the 
sea-routine of a cruiser, in order to give them 
something to do. Twice a day he drilled them 
at marching and facing, and he found other 
occupations for heavy hours. The first dog- 
watch on this day was Johnny’s and Miss 
Mittykins’s, and a dull, hot watch it was, the 
deck fairly steaming under the sun, and the 
hulk rolling with unusual sluggishness. John* 
ny, at about five o’clock, woke with a start 
from a momentary doze and hastily glanced 
around the sea. Then for an instant his heart 


Waiting for a Sail 


215 


stopped beating and he stood breathless. The 
next second he roared, at the top of his lungs ; 

Sail ho ! 

All hands were afoot in a trice and survey- 
ing the stranger. 

“ A werry tidy lookin’ brigantine,” said 
Porgy, a-headin’ athwart our hawse an’ not 
more’n seven mile away. I reckon this are 
our chance.'* 

After the first futile fire more boxes had been 
hoisted out and chopped up. It was the work 
of a very few minutes to wet down this wood 
and start a fire. A goodly column of smoke 
rolled up and they all turned to watch the 
brigantine. For a few seconds she held her 
course. 

“ Is she going to desert us ? ” exclaimed 
Johnny. 

“ Avast there,” said Porgy, '' give her time 
to move.” 

The words were hardly out of his mouth before 
the foretopsail yard of the stranger was seen 
to swing slowly and her head began to fall off. 

“ Wha’d I tole you ? Wha’d I tole you ? ” 
screamed Scipio. Smoke *e’ fotch ’em ebbery 
time.” 

She are a-comin’, sure enough,” said Porgy, 
‘‘ but she ain’t took us off yet.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 

PORGY AND COMPANY UNDER HATCHES 

The brigantine was now pointing her slender 
jib-boom directly at the wreck. She came 
down with her creamy sails swelling beautifully 
against the clear blue sky, as her lean topgal- 
lant masts swung well out to leeward, and with 
a smother of yeasty foam under her lee bow. 
right smart little clipper,” said Meredith. 

“ She don’t show any flag, that I can see,” 
said Miss Mittykins. 

“You couldn’t see no flag from here,” said 
Porgy, “ ’cos she are a-headin’ almost right 
toward us.” 

It was fully an hour before the brigantine 
was abreast of the wreck. She swept up into 
the wind a quarter of a mile away and pro- 
ceeded to lower away a boat. 

“ That are a werry satisfactory business,” 
said Porgy. 

“ Yes, that looks as if they certainly meant to 
take us off,” added Meredith. 

“ Do you think they might refuse when they 
find that this vessel is not really afire ? ” asked 
Johnny. 


216 


Under Hatches 


217 

“ Not unless they are a set of brutes,” ex- 
claimed Morton. 

“ W’ich sometimes they is,” said Porgy, sen- 
tentiously. 

The little company became silent and 
watched the approaching boat with some 
anxiety. It was a large yawl, pulled by 
three men in the nondescript costumes of 
merchant seamen, while a third stood in the 
stern and steered with an oar. His dress did 
not distinguish him in any degree from the 
men at the oars, and what might be his posi- 
tion or rank aboard the brigantine could 
be only a matter of conjecture to the ship- 
wrecked men-o’-war’s men. When the boat 
had approached within fifty yards of the hulk, 
the man in the stern ordered the oarsmen to 
cease rowing, and sent to our friends a hoarse 
hail: 

“ Wreck there ! Are ye on fire ? ” 

“No,” returned Porgy, “we sot the fire fur 
a signal.” 

“ Signal o’ what ? ” 

“ I reckon wot are plain enough,” said 
Porgy ; “ we’re onto a dismasted hull an’ can’t 
get nowhere.” 

“Why don’t ye put a jury rig onto her?” 

“ Ain’t got no spars.” 


2 1 8 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

The man in the boat said something to his 
companions, and then called out again : 

“ Who are ye ? ” 

“ We’re a party o’ shipwrecked mariners,” 
answered Porgy. 

“ That ain’t a answer.” 

I’d like to ax you a question, ef ye don’t 
mind,” said Porgy. “ Wot brigantine are that, 
an’ where are she boun’ ? ” 

I don’t know’s I’m obligated to tell you 
that,” said the man. “ But I reckon you’re a 
Union sailor, an’ so I’ll tell you. She’s a 
Northern wessel, from Boston fur St. Kitt’s. 
Now who are you an’ how’d ye come aboard 
that wreck ? ” 

“ S’pose ye take us off fust,” said Porgy. 

Are you men-o’-war’s men ? ” 

Yes ; there’s no need to deny that.” 

“ Got your arms with ye ? ” 

No ; our boat, that had ’em in, went adrift.” 

The man looked as if he were greatly re- 
lieved, but he answered : 

Sorry for that ; we’d like to *a’ had ’em 
aboard.” 

He gave a command to his crew, and they 
pulled alongside the wreck. 

‘^Tumble in,” said he, ** an’ ye can spin me 
yer yarn as we row over.” 



WE'RE A PARTY O' SHIPWRECKED MARINERS/’ ANSWERED PORGY. 





Under Hatches 


219 

Plenty good grub here,” said Scipio ; 
“ good to take it aboard yo* brigantine.” 

We’ll send the boat back to overhaul it,” 
said the man. 

Our friends clambered down into the yawl 
and pushed off from the side of the wreck, 
which now, deserted and smoking, made a dis- 
mal picture. 

We was a part o’ a prize crew,” said Porgy, 
''put on board the rebel cruiser Osceola by 
the Union ship Mohawk. The Osceola’d been 
putty well plugged full o’ holes in the fight, an* 
we’n the gale come on, a few days ago, she 
couldn’t keep afloat. The crew left her in 
three boats an* we got scattered in a fog. We 
sighted that hulk, boarded her, an’ found her 
tight. I dunno’s we’d *a stayed there, but our 
boat got adrift an’ so we had to. I reckon as 
how it were fur the best.” 

" Mebbe,” said the man. " There ain’t no 
officer among ye, I see.” 

" No; no officer.” 

“ Any petty officer ? ” 

“ No ; not a one.” 

" Humph ! ” exclaimed the man, looking 
much displeased. 

" Are ye short o’ officers aboard the brigan- 
tine ? ” asked Porgy. 


2 20 The Last Crtiise of the Mohawk 

“ Wot’s that to you?” demanded the man, 
sharply. 

“ Oh, nothin’,” said Porgy, only I been to 
sea a good many year an’ I’ve sarved as second 
mate on a clipper ship. But mebbe you’re the 
second mate yourself.” 

“ I’m the fust mate.” 

“ Beggin’ yer pardon, sir,” said Porgy, 
gravely saluting. 

“ ’Tain’t no matter,” answered the first mate. 

For a few minutes there was no sound in the 
boat except the dull click of the oars in the 
rowlocks. Then Porgy, who had been in a 
brown study, asked : 

Ain’t ye afraid to be so close to the coast 
o’ the secession States wi’ your brigantine? ” 

“ Who says we’re close ? ” exclaimed the first 
mate, with a start of surprise. 

“Wall,” answered Porgy, “ I ain’t sayin’ it 
edzackly, ’cos I ain’t none too sure o’ my own 
reckonin’ since I been afloat in a boat an’ onto 
a wreck ; but I reckon we ain’t more’n a hun- 
dred mile to the east’ard o’ land.” 

“ I guess our cap’n knows where we are,” 
said the first mate, with an airy toss of his 
head. 

Something in the man’s manner made Porgy 
suspect that he was not so confident as he pre- 


Under Hatches 


221 


tended to be, but as a measure of precaution 
he remained silent, and the rest of the Mo- 
hawk’s crew imitated his example. The boat 
was now close to the brigantine, which was 
lying to with her headsails aback. Several 
roughly clad sailors leaned over the rail and 
gazed with curiosity at the party in the boat. 

A man with an air of authority was walking 
up and down on the weather side of the cabin, 
and when the boat was off the weather quarter, 
he hailed her : 

“Who are them you’re bringin’, Mr. Black?” 

“ Shipwrecked men-o’-war’s men, Ja^sir ! ” 
was the reply. 

“ Have they got their arms with ’em ? ” was 
the immediate inquiry. 

“ No, they ain’t got any arms at all.” 

“Oh,” said the captain, pausing an instant 
and then adding, “ that’s too bad.” 

Porgy's suspicions were aroused by this anx- 
iety about the arms. A dozen different sur- 
mises flashed through his mind, but he could 
not make any of them quite fit the situation. 
At first he thought the vessel might be a South- 
ern transport, laden with stores ; but he dis- 
missed that idea with the reflection that it 
would be folly to use a sailing-vessel for such 
a service, in the face of the fact that Southern 


222 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

waters were full of Union cruisers and gun- 
boats. Next he wondered whether she might 
not be a freebooter of some kind, but the gen- 
eral appearance of the men in the boat made 
that supposition seem groundless. Yet the old 
seaman could not get rid of the feeling that 
something was. wrong. He ran his experi- 
enced eye over the vessel, but her rig was in 
good order and she appeared to be handled 
with skill. She flew no flag, but of course that 
was to be expected. Flags are seldom shown at 
sea except for purposes of communication. The 
other members of the Mohawk’s crew watched 
Porgy’s face keenly, and they all knew that 
the old seaman was filled with uneasiness, a 
feeling which quickly spread among them. 
Porgy would have given a year’s pay to be 
able to hold a minute’s consultation with his 
companions, but of course that was quite out 
of the question. The boat was now under the 
lee quarter of the brigantine and a hand on 
deck hove her a line, by which she was hauled 
up to the main chains. 

“ Now then, you men, tumble aboard,” said 
the first mate. 

Aye, aye, sir,” came the ready response of 
the men-o’-war’s men. 

They clambered over the vessel’s rail, touch- 


Under Hatches 


223 

ing their caps as they reached the deck, and 
formed in a line facing inboard. 

“ Who’s in command here ? ” demanded the 
captain of the brigantine. 

“ Wal, sir,” said Porgy, ‘‘I, bein’ the oldest 
seaman, was ordered to take charge o’ the boat 
wot we was in, an’ so I s’pose I’m in command 
yit, though the boat are gone adrift.” 

How did you come aboard that wreck ? ” 

Porgy once more briefly told the story of 
the fight, the foundering of the Osceola, and 
their adventures in the boat and on the wreck. 

There ain’t no officer, an’ I guess there 
ain’t even a petty officer, amongst ye, is 
there? ” 

'' No, sir,” said Porgy ; but I were a-tellin’ 
yer mate, sir, as how I been in the merchant 
sarvice an’ sarved as second mate, sir.” 

It’s a navigator I want,” said the captain, 
curtly. 

W’y, can’t ye navigate her yerself ? ” ex- 
claimed Porgy, in great surprise. 

Of course, of course,” answered the captain, 
hastily ; “ but I want some one to help me.” 

The captain now stepped to the rail and 
spoke to his first mate. 

Why don’t you get your boat hoisted, 
Peter ?” 


224 Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


I tell ye, Ja — I mean sir — them fellers says 
there’s lots o’ good grub aboard the wreck.” 

By the great hook-block ! That’s what we 
want, isn’t it? You go over an’ git a good 
cargo of ’t.” 

You bet I will,” answered the first mate, 
with a loud, coarse laugh. 

As the boat pulled away, the captain turned 
from the rail and strode up and down the deck 
as if in deep debate with himself. 

“You men stand by here a few minutes,” he 
said, as he went forward. 

Porgy’s eyes eagerly followed his every 
movement, and it did not ease the old sea- 
man’s mind to see this rude captain join his 
crew on the forecastle and enter into an earnest 
consultation with them. Their varying ex- 
pressions and their frequent looks toward our 
friends showed plainly what was the topic of 
their talk. 

“ Thar’s somethin’ wrong here,” said Porgy, 
quickly and in a low tone ; “ I’m of the idee 
that it are a case o’ mutiny. These ’ere men 
has got rid o’ their officers, an’ havin’ got per- 
session o’ the brigantine, they don’t know wot 
to do, ’cos they ain’t got no navigator. An’ 
now we comes aboard an’ they’re afraid to let 
us know the truth. All on ye keep mum an’ 


Under Hatches 


225 

keep yer weather eye on me, while I watch 
fur squalls. Now stan’ by, he’s cornin’.” 

“ I’ve asked my men,” said the captain, com- 
ing up, if they can make room fur you in the 
foks’le, an’ they says they can. I reckon ye’ll 
be willin’ to turn to an’ help work the brigan- 
tine, won’t ye ? ” 

“ In course we will, sir,” answered Porgy, 
heartily. 

Then go right below an’ settle about the 
bunks. When ye come on deck ag’in I’ll give 
ye your watches.” 

Porgy led the way forward, where the men 
of the brigantine’s crew were clustered near 
the fore hatch. When the men-o’-war’s men 
had arrived, the hatch was thrown open and 
one of the seamen said : 

“ Tumble down quick now ! ” 

The naval sailors did as they were bid, and 
as the last man stepped down the hatch-cover 
was slammed down and fastened, while above 
it a peal of hoarse laughter sounded. 

Salt mackerel an’ yaller dogs ! ” exclaimed 
Porgy ; ** we're in a trap.” 


IS 


CHAPTER XXVII 

SURPRISES IN THE FOREPEAK 

For a few moments our friends were so 
amazed that, with the exception of Porgy’s 
quick exclamation, not a word was spoken. 
They stood quite still under the closed hatch, 
gazing at one another in the almost impen- 
etrable gloom. At length Scipio shifted un- 
easily from one foot to the other and muttered : 

“ Don't b’lieve dey much good grub down 
hyar.” 

Serious as their situation seemed to them, 
they all smiled at the negro’s words. 

‘‘You don’t suppose they’d starve us, do 
you ? ” said Johnny. 

“ My son,” answered Porgy, “ that are one o’ 
them things wot nobody can tell. A body o’ 
mutineers ain’t no pic-nic party.” 

“ Hark ! ” exclaimed Johnny ; “ what noise is 
that ? ” 

They all listened intently for a moment, and 
Miss Mittykins spoke lightly : 

226 


Surprises in the Forepeak 227 


Even I can tell that it’s the creaking of the 
foretopsail yard.” 

“ Yes, they’re filling away on her again,” said 
Meredith. 

WTiere do you think they intend to take 
us?” asked Johnny. 

That are wot they doesn’t know their- 
selves,” said Porgy. “ I’m sartain that wot I 
told you are right. They ain’t got no naviga- 
tor, an’, finding that we hadn’t none neither, an’ 
was too many to be safe, they jess got us down 
here out o’ the way.” 

Can’t we get through into the after part of 
the vessel, and so get out? ” asked Johnny. 

“ I reckon not,” said Porgy ; these ’ere 
flush-deck wessels ain’t ginerally built that 
way.” 

Then,” said Miss Mittykins, “ we may as 
well set about making ourselves comfortable 
right here.” 

Here are bunks,” said Morton, who had 
been walking around the place. 

“ They belong to the crew,” remarked Mere- 
dith. 

Not now, lad,” said Porgy. '' This ’ere 
crew are a-livin’ aft in the cabin.” 

I wonder if they are well armed,” said 
Johnny. 


228 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


“Shouldn’t wonder,” answered Porgy ; “an’ 
even ef they wasn’t, we ain’t armed at all.” 

The friends were silent again. The gloom of 
the closed forecastle was crushingly oppressive 
to them, accustomed as they were to the spa- 
cious, light, and airy gun-deck of the Mohawk. 
The air was heavy and foul with the odor of 
bilge-water. The whole place, too, resounded 
with pitiful groanings and complainings as the 
vessel rolled across the restless surface of the 
sea. 

“ Wal,” muttered Porgy, “ as the widder used 
ter say, this are a fine can to stew termaters in.” 

It was the first time Porgy had spoken of 
“ the widder ” for several days, and the friends 
hailed it as a sign that his spirits were not so 
low as they had seemed to be. Suddenly 
Johnny, who had gone toward the forward end 
of the forecastle, called out : 

“ Here’s a hole leading to the deck below.” 

Porgy hastened forward, followed by the 
others, and found a small, rudely cut opening 
in the deck. 

“ Wal,” he said, reflectively, “that are kind o* 
cur’ous. That ain’t no reg’lar manhole. It are 
jess been made, too.” 

“ What do you suppose it’s for ? ” asked 
Meredith. 


Surprises in the Forepeak 229 

“ I don’t know,” answered Porgy, but I 
reckon I’m a-goin’ to find out.” 

So saying, he thrust his legs down through 
the hole, preparatory to dropping to the 
deck below. He had hardly done so when 
his face assumed the most ludicrous ex- 
pression of alarm and amazement, and he 
began to kick vigorously, shouting, at the 
same time : 

** Let go ! Let go ! ” 

The next moment he hauled himself up out 
of the hole and stood panting in the forecastle. 

“ What’s the matter ? What is it ? ” demand- 
ed the friends. 

Somebody grabbed me by the leg!” ex- 
claimed Porgy. 

*‘Yes,” came a muffled voice from below, 
“and I’ll blow daylight through the first one 
of you that makes a move to come down here. 
I know your game, you skulking lot of cow- 
ards, and I’m ready for you.” 

The men of the Mohawk’s crew stood and 
gazed at one another in blank astonishment. 
Finally Porgy found his voice and called 
down : 

“ Who’n thunder are you ? ” 

“ You know well enough,” was the unex- 
pected answer. 


230 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ I’m blowed into spun yarn ef I do,” re- 
sponded Porgy, stoutly. 

“ I’m the Captain of this brigantine, and well 
you know it. Who put me under hatches, if 
you didn’t? ” 

We never put you under hatches,” an- 
swered Porgy. ‘‘ We’re under ’em ourselves.” 

“ Have you fallen out with the rest of the 
crew ? ” 

No ; we don’t b’long to yer bloomin’ crew. 
We’re castaways, took aboard from a wreck,” 
said Porgy. 

There was a brief silence after this statement, 
and then the voice from below was heard again. 

‘‘ I don’t know whether to believe you or 
not.” 

‘‘ Come up an’ see.” 

“Oh, no; let one of your number come 
down.” 

A brief consultation was held and it was de- 
cided that in the darkness it would be easy for 
the Captain to assure himself that Scipio was 
not one of his crew. 

“ Stand clear b’low ! ” called Porgy. 

The stalwart negro dropped through the 
hole and the friends above awaited his return 
in anxious silence. Scipio found himself in the 
impenetrable blackness of the forepeak, with 


231 


Surprises in the Forepeak 

piles of spare rigging and old junk under his 
feet. The moment he alighted his arm was 
seized in a firm grip and a determined voice 
said : 

“ Tve got a hatchet in my hand and any at- 
tempt at trickery will send the edge of it 
through your brain.” 

’Deed an’ ’deed, sah, dey ’ain’t no tricks 
’bout dis hyar niggah.” 

A negro ! ” exclaimed the Captain, drop- 
ping his arm. 

Dat’s me,” answered Scipio. 

“ Come over here,” said the Captain, leading 
the sailor forward. Uncover the lantern.” 

Someone in the blackness moved a cloth and 
revealed a dim lantern that threw a feeble and 
ghastly light over the strange place. Behind 
a heavy coil of rope sat two other men, whose 
pale faces and staring eyes looked deathly in 
the half-gloom. Scipio gazed at the Captain 
and these two men in speechless surprise. 
They in their turn examined him closely. 

“ Why,” exclaimed the Captain, “ what’s 
this? The uniform of the Navy ! ” 

’Deed dat’s what it am, sah,” said Scipio. 

We done been Uncle Sam’s sailah men, an’ 
we got adrift. Porgy, he tole yo’ all ’bout it, 
sah, ef yo’ done come up in de fohc’stle.” 


232 The Last Crtnse of the Mohawk 

‘‘ This looks all right,” said the Captain to 
the other two men. This negro is certainly 
not a member of the brigantine’s crew. I’ll go 
up and see these men.” 

“ But, my esteemed friend,” said one of the 
crouching men, in an oily tone, pray consider 
the extreme value of your precious life to us. 
Pray, my man, how many of you are there.” 

“ Bar’s eight, sah. Fouah men and fouah 
boys.” 

“ Eight ! My dear sir, you certainly must 
not venture among them.” 

“ Wouldn’t it be better,” said the other 
man, ‘‘to have them come down here one at a 
time ? ” 

“ That’s a good idea,” answered the Captain, 
moving to the spot under the opening in the 
deck, and calling up : “ Let your company drop 
down here one at a time as I give the word, 
the boys first.” 

“ Aye, aye, sir,” answered Porgy. 

“ Let one of the boys down now.” 

Miss Mittykins chanced to be nearest to the 
opening, and at a word from Porgy the lad 
dropped lightly into the forepeak. He walked 
directly up to the Captain, who led him over 
to the light and looked him over with great 
satisfaction. 


Surprises in the Forepeak 233 

“ Why, this certainly looks all right,” he said. 

What’s your name?” 

Miss Mittykins, sir.” 

“‘Miss’ Mittykins! why, you’re not a girl, 
are you?” 

“ Oh, sir,” said the boy, “ that’s just a gun- 
deck nickname. My name is Mittykins, though ; 
apprentice, sir, and at your command aboard 
your own ship.” 

“ Well spoken, my lad ; you’re an honest boy. 
I’ll be bound. Let the next one come down.” 

The second boy down was Meredith, who 
saluted the Captain respectfully, and gave a 
satisfactory account of himself. The Captain 
was now satisfied that all was as Scipio had 
represented it to be, and he went to the hole 
and bade the Mohawk people all to come 
down. They tumbled down in some disorder 
and stood in a little group. 

“ An’ now, sir.” said Porgy, “ it aren’t no 
more’n right as we should tell you who we 
are an’ how we came to be aboard a wrack an’ 
so on.” 

Porgy briefly related the experiences of him- 
self and his friends from the time of the en- 
gagement with the Osceola. 

“ A remarkable story, indeed,” said the man 
with the oily voice; “and an evidence that 


234 Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

your advent among us is due to the special 
intervention of a beneficent Providence.” 

At the first sound of this man’s voice Johnny 
Rodgers and Morton Brewer started as if they 
had been shot, and gazed blankly at one another. 
Then they both hastily stepped forward into 
the circle of feeble light and stared at the 
speaker. 

“ Old Durand, by crackey ! ” exclaimed Mor- 
ton. 

‘‘Ha! Ha-a-a! Look there!” shrieked the 
other man, who now sprang to his feet. “ Are 
you alive ? ” 

“ Mr. Brewer! ” cried Johnny. 

“Father !” shouted Morton, dashing forward 
and flinging his arms about his parent’s neck. 

“ Oh, Lord ! ” exclaimed Mr. Durand, roil- 
ing his eyes upward, “ Thy ways are not our 
ways.” 

“ Wal,” said Porgy, slowly, “ ef you’re the 
man I’ve heerd on, I guess that there statement 
are about right.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 
AN EFFORT FOR FREEDOM 

The next hour passed very speedily. John- 
ny, of course, had to narrate his adventures to 
his guardian and his former school-master, and 
the latter was prolific in his expressions of 
pious amazement. Morton also had his story 
to tell. When these duties had been performed, 
Porgy said : 

“ Mr. Brewer, sir, you bein’ this ’ere boy’s 
guardeen, I reckon you got a putty consid’able 
claim onto him ; but I also reckon you can’t 
do much jess now, ’cos he’s gone an’ appren- 
ticed himself to the Navy.” 

And a good thing, too,” said Mr. Brewer. 

“ An’ as his shipmate an’ teacher,” continued 
Porgy, “ I’d like to know wot are a-goin’ to be 
done about his money.” 

His money ! Oh, his money ! ” mumbled 
Mr. Brewer. 

Them’s it,” said Porgy. 

Why, father,” exclaimed Morton, ''you for- 
get that he saved my life.” 

235 


236 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

‘‘ That’s true,” said Mr. Brewer, in a humble 
tone, “ I did forget that for the moment. But 
the money — I have — well, it’s a long story 
and ” 

“Never mind it now,” said Johnny; “we 
must save ourselves first.” 

“ Bully ! ” exclaimed Porgy, “ that are good 
talk fur to listen to, as the widder said w’en the 
dominie preached two hours.” 

“Well,” said Morton, “ I shall never forget 
Johnny’s courage and readiness as long as I 
live, and I want to make a statement right here 
and now. Mr. Durand, another fellow and 
myself did the smoking in Johnny’s room at 
the Tuzo School, and he wouldn’t tell on us.” 

Mr. Durand shifted uneasily from one foot 
to the other, coughed, and looked uncomfort- 
able. 

“ I regret,” he said, at length, “ that I should 
have been deceived in that matter, but under 
the circumstances I could take no other course 
than I did. To err is human ; to forgive ” 

“ Oh, it’s all right now, Mr. Durand,” said 
Johnny, heartily. “As long as you and my 
guardian know that I was not to blame. I’m 
satisfied.” 

“ And if we ever escape from our present 
perilous predicament, I shall see to it that the 


An Effort for Freedom 237 

facts are duly published in Sancet,’* said Mr. 
Durand. 

“ I don’t s’pose,” remarked Porgy, “ that it 
are any of our business how you got into this 
’ere predicament, as you call it ; I calls it fore- 
peak.” 

“Ahem ! Well, I really can’t answer that,” 
said Mr. Durand. 

“ This is Mr. Brewer’s brigantine,” said Cap- 
tain Sparks, “and she’s engaged in a private 
expedition.” 

“ The fact is, Morton — and John,” said Mr. 
Brewer, “ my fellow-townsmen accused me of 
secessionist views and made life so unbearable 
in Sancet, that I have left the place, and in do- 
ing so fitted out this vessel with a cargo to 
make the move profitable to me.” 

“ Then,” said Morton, with a smile, “ this is 
our home.” 

“For the present, yes,” said Mr. Brewer. 

“ But,” observed Captain Sparks, “ our home 
is in the hands of what you might call burg- 
lars.” 

“Yes,” answered Porgy, “an’ it are putty 
near mess-time, I reckon, an’ we’d better not 
be caught here.” 

“ That’s true,” said the Captain. “ Now that 
there are so many of us, we may as well stay in 


238 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

the forecastle. Besides we got through the 
deck only this morning, and none of my muti- 
nous crew know of it yet, and the secret may 
be of use to us.” 

“Then up we goes,” said Porgy. 

With some difficulty Mr. Brewer and Mr. 
Durand were assisted to clamber up into the 
forecastle, and the others, being seamen, fol- 
lowed without trouble. They had hardly 
reached the place when the hatch-cover was 
raised a few inches and a voice called down : 

“ Below there ! Stand by to get yer grub 
w’en it’s lowered away ; an’ mind, no queer busi- 
ness, because we’re all armed an’ kin shoot.” 

“Just as I suspected,” said the Captain; 
“ they’ve broken out the arms.” 

The significance of this speech was not lost 
on the men-of-war’s men, but at a sign from 
Porgy, Scipio stepped beneath the hatch. 

“ How many of you is there ? ” asked the 
voice. 

“ That’s Peter Black,” whispered the Cap- 
tain. 

“ Bar’s ’lebben ob us, sah,” said Scipio. 

“ As if he didn’t know, curse him ! ” ex- 
claimed Mr. Brewer. 

“ Oh, you’ve laid alongside the Cap’n an' his 
friends have you?” said Black. “Wal, now 


An Effort for^ Freedom 239 

you know how things is, an* I guess you’ll 
keep stoppers on yer jaw-tackles. Stand by, 
now ; we ain’t goin’ to starve yer.” 

A large kettle was now cautiously lowered 
through the hatch, which was instantly closed. 
It was raised again presently, to admit some 
bread and water. 

You won’t get much satisfaction out of this 
grub,” said the Captain. Those fellows are 
living aft on the cabin stores and are feeding 
us on forecastle grub, and it’s none too good. 
In fact, that’s what kicked up all the trouble.” 

Dat plenty bad grub,” said Scipio, with an 
air of disgust. 

The other men-of-war’s men said nothing, 
but contrived to swallow a little of the ill- 
smelling compound from the kettle and to 
wash it down with Avarm water. Mr. Brewer 
uttered many exclamations of impatience, and 
Mr. Durand vainly prayed his esteemed friend 
to be calm. When the meal had been finished. 
Captain Sparks said to Porgy : 

‘‘ Did the fellows on deck let out anything 
about where they’re going to take us?” 

No, sir ; ’cos they don’t know theirselves,” 
answered Porgy ; “ they ain’t got no naviga- 
tor.” 

'' Of course,” answered the Captain, with a 


240 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

laugh ; I forgot that. I wonder what they’ll 
do.” 

‘‘ They’ll git a navigator off some passin’ 
ship, ef they can,” said Porgy. 

“ Easier said than done in these war-times,” 
said the Captain. 

Ef we had arms,” said Porgy, “ we might 
contrive to take the brigantine back, ef we 
could get out o’ here.” 

Mr. Durand started up in alarm, and ex- 
claimed : 

Pray, my dear and honored friends, let us 
have no bloodshed. Let us trust in measures 
of peace.” 

‘‘You can’t deal that way with mutineers,” 
objected the Captain. “ But it’s Mr. Brewer’s 
ship. What do you say, sir ? ” 

“ I say,” answered Mr. Brewer, “ let us get 
the vessel back if we can. Here are eleven 
men, of whom seven are naval seamen and one 
— my son — a marine. These men may be 
called, fairly, veterans. At any rate they have 
seen hot service, and I dare say will lend their 
aid to recapture this vessel.” 

“ That we will, sir ! Aye, aye, sir ! ” came in 
a chorus from the Mohawk’s people. 

“ Captain Sparks and I will not hesitate, I be- 
lieve, when the time comes,” said Mr. Brewer. 


An Effort for Freedom 241 

“ Not I,” said the Captain, heartily ; “ Til 
take a whack at the scoundrels.” 

And,” continued Mr. Brewer, ‘Mf my 
esteemed friend here, Mr. Durand, desires 
to keep out of danger, he may remain be- 
low.” 

“ What, alone ! ” exclaimed Mr. Durand, in a 
tone of alarm ; not for worlds ! ” 

‘‘But what are we to fight with?” asked 
Meredith. 

“ I reckon I heard somethin’ about breakin’ 
out arms,” said Porgy. 

“The cargo of this brigantine is arms and 
ammunition,” said the Captain, briefly ; “ there 
are enough of them in the after-hold to fit out 
a brigade.” 

“Then we got to get ’em,” said Porgy. 

“ Yes, but how ? ” asked the Captain. “ This 
brigantine has a solid bulkhead between the 
forepeak and the hold.” 

“ Can’t we cut through it,” asked Morton, 
“ just as you did through the deck ? ” 

“We could do it,” said the Captain, “but 
they’d catch us at it. I’m afraid, because it 
would be noisy work, and they’d hear us. It’s 
my belief that they go into the hold pretty 
often, and the only thing I have to cut with is 
an old chisel I found down here.” 

16 


242 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Hark ! ” exclaimed Johnny ; “ what noise is 
that on deck? ” 

Sounds like the tramping of the crew for- 
ward,” said the Captain. 

“We’re hove well down to port,” said Por- 
gy ; “ an’ we’re doin’ some consid’ble jumpin’ 
into a lumpy head sea. I reckon it are cornin’ 
on to blow an’ they’re a-shortenin’ sail.” 

“ That’s what’s the matter,” said the Captain. 

For half an hour the tramping of feet was 
audible overhead, mingled with hoarse shouts 
of command and the rattling of blocks. Mean- 
while, although the brigantine leaned less 
sharply to port, she continued to jump into the 
rising seas, which could now plainly be heard 
thrashing against her wooden sides. 

“ This ’ere bit o’ weather are a-goin’ to be 
the werry thing we wants,” said Porgy, em- 
phatically. “ Ef the sea makes enough noise, 
they won’t be able to hear us a-poundin’ at the 
bulkhead.” 

“And I have a suggestion to offer,” said 
Johnny. 

“ Wot are it, my son ? ” asked Porgy. 

“ In order to save time, we ought to make 
the hole as small as possible, oughtn’t we ? ” 

“Yes; that’s so.” 

“Then make it just big enough for me to 


An Effort for Freedom 243 

get through; pass the chisel after me; I’ll 
open the boxes and hand the arms and ammu- 
nition through,” said Johnny. 

Brave boy ! ” exclaimed the Captain. 

“ But,” said Miss Mittykins, “ if they should 
come down into the hold and catch you, we 
couldn’t do a thing to help you.” 

So much the better,” said Johnny ; be- 
cause you would still be safe, and able in the 
end to beat them.” 

** Listen ! ” exclaimed Morton ; “ the sea is 
rising fast.” 

‘‘ Good ! ” ejaculated Porgy ; “ Johnny’s idee 
are a good one.” 

Bang ! went a heavy sea against the star- 
board bow. “That’s good ! ” said the Captain. 
“ That’s the sort of noise we need.” 

“ Why not go to work at once, then ? ” cried 
Johnny, springing to his feet. “The sooner 
\ve get the arms the sooner we’ll get the brig- 
antine.” 

“ Hurrah ! ” cried Miss Mittykins, dancing 
with delight. “ Where’s your chisel. Cap- 
tain?” 

“ Here it is,” was the answer, as the Captain 
reached under a bunk and drew it forth. 

“Come on, then,” cried Johnny, dropping 
down the hole into the forepeak. 


244 Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


With glowing eyes and flushed faces the sea- 
men followed him, while Mr. Brewer and Mr. 
Durand sat in the gloomy forecastle, filled with 
anxiety. 


CHAPTER XXIX 
JOHNNY AND HIS TUNNEL 

** Now,” said Porgy, “ I reckon we’d better 
cut this ’ere hole putty low down, ’cos then no- 
body’ll likely see it ef he comes inter the hold.” 

“ Mebbe de boxes right ag’in de bulkhead,” 
said Scipio. 

“ How are that, Cap’n?” asked Porgy. 

** The ammunition boxes are stored next to 
the bulkhead,” said the Captain, and, now I 
come to think of it, they’re stowed log-cabin 
fashion, with timbers between them, so as to let 
the air get around them. I don’t believe that 
anyone except a boy like this could crawl 
through. We’ll be pretty lucky, too, if we 
don’t cut our hole right against the end of a 
box.” 

Then let’s cut it high enough to be above 
them all,” said Meredith. 

** No,” answered Porgy ; Johnny’s idee was 
right. Ef we cut above ’em, any feller that 
comes down inter the hold’ll see the hole.” 

“ Come on, then,” said the Captain ; “let’s go 
to work.” 


245 


246 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ Hold on a minute,” exclaimed Johnny. 
“ Can you remember how wide the boxes are 
Captain ? ” 

“I didn’t measure them,” was the answer; 
“but I should say about two feet and a half. 
Why?” 

“Well, it’s this way,” replied Johnny; “if 
the boxes are about two feet and a half wide 
and have timbers between them, I should think 
that by starting our hole about three feet from 
the vessel’s side, we’d about hit the space be- 
tween the first and second boxes.” 

“The boy’s right!” declared the Captain. 
“ t must have been thick-headed not to think 
Oi hat myself. Let’s start the hole three feet 
from the weather side.” 

And now began a slow and laborious piece 
of work, for the planks were tough, the chisel 
was dull, and they had only a block of wood to 
use as a mallet. Nevertheless progress was 
made, and after a long and trying struggle sec- 
tions of three planks were cut out, and it was 
found that they had made the opening opposite 
a space between two boxes. 

“ We got to git another slice out,” said 
Porgy ; “ that hole aren’t big enough yet.” 

“Avast there, Porgy,” said Johnny. “I 
don’t believe you ever were a boy. That 


yohnny and His Tunnel 247 

hole’s plenty big enough for me, and so here 
goes.” 

So saying, Johnny dropped down and began 
to push himself through the hole feet first, as 
every boy does in such a case, knowing that if 
he gets into a tight place he can return 
better if his head is toward the opening at 
which he entered. By hunching up ” his 
shoulders he was able to get them through 
the hole with a squeeze. He rested a moment 
and, looking up with a twinkle of fun in his 
eyes, said : 

“ All clear astern so far. Give me the block 
and chisel. Say, Mittykins, did you ever pv!ay 
at tunnelling when you were a boy? Well' ilis 
is tunnelling for business. Good-by. Whew ! 
I smell rats ! ” 

And Johnny disappeared in the impenetrable 
gloom of the hold, leaving his friends in keen 
anxiety in the forepeak. The boy wormed 
himself slowly backward between the two 
boxes. It was intensely dark, except for the 
faint glimmer of light that came from the hole 
in the bulkhead. But Johnny struggled along 
until his feet brought up suddenly against the 
side of a box laid directly across his tunnel. 
He paused in dismay. 

'' Here’s a pretty pickle, as Porgy says,” he 


248 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

muttered to himself. “ If I’ve reached the end 
of the tunnel, I’d like to know what I can do 
except to go back. Hold on, though. Let’s 
feel around a little bit.” 

He moved his feet about in various direc- 
tions and found that there was a passage be- 
tween the end of his box and the one that his 
feet had struck. 

I wonder if I can get around that corner,” 
he thought. Anyhow I’ve got to try.” 

He pushed his body backward slowly, doub- 
ling up his knees till he was almost in a cramp. 
Then he slid his legs around into the new pas- 
sage, and with the greatest difficulty got his 
body around the corner after them. 

‘‘ I wonder if I can get back ! ” was the 
thought that now flashed through his mind. 

Immediately he tried to do so, and found 
that it was considerably easier than going 
ahead — or rather astern. But now he had 
to go through the labor of forcing himself 
around the corner once more. When he had 
succeeded in doing so, he felt that he had 
bruised and barked his limbs in several places. 
But he must go on. Slowly and with much 
difficulty he pushed himself backward down 
the new passage, till his feet again struck a 
box. 


Johnny and His Tunnel 249 

Another corner/* he said. 

Then came the painful bending and squeez- 
ing necessary to get himself around ; but he 
knew better how to go about it now and did 
not tire himself as he had the first time. 

‘‘ How frightfully dark it is ! ” he murmured, 
as he lay panting; “and how stuffy the air is.” 

The appalling gloom was too much for the 
boy’s nerves for a few moments, and he closed 
his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He 
could feel the lurching and pitching of the 
brigantine, and his ears were filled with a 
thousand discordant creakings and gnawings 
as her timbers strained in her struggle with the 
wild sea. Above him, too, the boxes creaked 
and shrieked. 

“ Suppose the stowage isn’t good, and one of 
the boxes falls in on me ! ” 

That thought had barely flashed through his 
mind when there was a squeak and a whir and 
something rushed across his prostrate body. 

“ Ugh ! ” he exclaimed ; “ a rat ! ” 

That little incident convinced him that it 
was poor policy to lie still, and he began his 
journey again ; but in a few minutes he had to 
turn another corner. 

“ Good gracious ! ” he thought ; “ suppose I 
get lost! Wait, wait. How did I come? 


250 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

Once fore-and-aft, once athwart-ships, again 
fore-and-aft, and now athwart-ships again. I 
mustn’t lose my reckoning, so that I can find 
my way back.” 

In a few moments Johnny mustered up cour- 
age to proceed in the impenetrable darkness. 
It seemed to him that his journey lasted for 
half a day, but it was not more than three- 
quarters of an hour before his feet went out of 
the end of a passage and met no obstacle. 

“ Hello ! ” he said, “ I wonder if I’ve come to 
the end of it.” 

Eagerly he wormed his body backward and 
in a few seconds his head was out of the tun- 
nel, and in the dim light of the hold he was 
able to see that he stood astern of all the pile 
of boxes. He had hardly made this cheering 
discovery when the main hatch was thrown 
open, a flood of light was let in, and someone 
began to descend. With feverish haste Johnny 
dropped on his breast and backed into the tun- 
nel from which he had just emerged. He had 
barely concealed his head before Peter Black 
and three other men had assembled in the 
hold. 

“ The ammunition boxes are fo’wa’d,” said 
Peter, ‘'an* we got to climb over the whole 
pile.” 


Johnny and His Tunnel 251 

“ Come on, then,’' said one of the other men. 

They climbed up the pile of boxes, Peter 
Black actually placing his foot within a dozen 
inches of Johnny’s head. The boy now real- 
ized that he must lie quiet until the men went 
out of the hold again. This proved to be a 
long and trying task, for they had gone down 
there to get a box of powder and a box of bul- 
lets — metallic breech-loading cartridges not be- 
ing in use then — and it was slow work. Never- 
theless, in an hour they had completed their 
task and left the hold. 

“ Now,” said Johnny, '‘as soon as I get used 
to the darkness again I can start.” 

In about ten minutes he was able to see 
clearly once more, and he began his climb over 
the pile of boxes. To his intense surprise and 
delight, he found that Peter and his men had 
removed two boxes almost directly above the 
last athwart-ships tunnel leading toward the 
hole. As these boxes had been on top of the 
lowermost layer, it was now possible for Johnny 
to drop down into his tunnel close to the hole. 
He at once forced the top from one of the 
boxes and found that it was filled with canisters 
of powder. Another box close by contained 
bullets. He searched a little while before he 
found caps. Taking a canister of powder in 


252 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

his hands and one large box of caps in his poc- 
ket, he dropped down into the tunnel, and in a 
few minutes passed through the hole into the 
forepeak. 

“ Glory be ! ” exclaimed Porgy, exhaling a 
huge breath of relief ; he are in port again.’* 

“It’s all right!” exclaimed Johnny; “I’ve 
found the whole stock and here are some speci- 
mens.” 

“ That looks like what we need,” said Cap- 
tain Sparks. “ But have you found the mus- 
kets ? ” 

“Yes, they’re in the long boxes farther 
astern,” replied Johnny. “ But I can tell you 
it’s going to be a fight. Your crew have got 
arms and ammunition, too.” 

“Never mind,” said the Captain. “We’ll 
whip them.” 

“ Now,” said Johnny. “ I’m going back for 
more. Let Miss Mittykins come with me. I 
know the way now, and two can work more 
quickly than one.” 

“ All right,” said Miss Mittykins. “ Heave 
ahead, Johnny.” And the two boys went like 
eels, in single file, into the now shortened tun- 
nel. 


CHAPTER XXX 


JOHNNY CONCEIVES A PLAN 

The boys were not able to indulge in much 
conversation as they wormed their way 
through the passage. But the journey was 
much shorter this time, and they were soon 
seated on the boxes, surveying the contents of 
the hold in the dim light. 

What in the world do you suppose your 
guardian intends to do with all this stock of 
arms and ammunition ? ” asked Miss Mitty- 
kins. 

Well, Tve been puzzling myself about that,’' 
said Johnny. “ I must say that it looks a little 
suspicious to me.” 

“Suspicious? How?” 

“What's he doing so far South with this 
cargo ? ” 

“ Do you think that he meant to take it into 
a Southern port ? ” 

“I’m afraid so,” said Johnny; “but we 
haven’t time to talk about that now. We must 
get at the arms and the other stuff.” 

253 


254 Cruise of the Mohawk 

“Yes, that’s so,” assented Miss Mittykins. 

“ And we must fasten the boxes up again,” 
said Johnny, “so that if any of them come 
down to get anything they will not see that 
the boxes have been opened.” 

“ It isn’t likely that they’ll come down again, 
is it ? They must have all they need up there.” 

“That’s true,” said Johnny; “ but you never 
can tell what that sort of fellows will do.” 

“ Especially if they should break out one or 
two bottles of whiskey too many.” 

The two boys now set to work in earnest at 
opening a box of muskets. They proceeded 
slowly and with caution, being anxious to 
avoid breaking the lid. 

“ Whew ! ” exclaimed Miss Mittykins, “those 
are good guns.” 

“ Yes,” said Johnny, “ but the trouble is that 
those scoundrels up above have guns just as 
good.” 

“ Look here,” said Miss Mittykins ; “ after we 
get these guns what are we going to do ? I 
don’t see my way out of this thing yet.” 

“ I have a plan,” said Johnny ; “ but we must 
consult Porgy and the others about it. 

“ What is it ?” 

“Never mind now. Let’s get our arsenal 
stocked. And say, Mittykins, I have an idea.” 


yohnny Conceives a Plan 255 

“ Let's hear it.” 

“ I think it would be a pretty good scheme 
for us to have two muskets each.” 

“ Good ! and have them both loaded, eh ? ” 

“ Yes, that’ll give us two shots to their one. 
I’m sure they haven’t thought of anything of 
that kind. And besides, they are not expect- 
ing anything from us.” 

The boys now got out the required number 
of muskets and screwed down the lid of the 
box once more. Johnny crawled into the tun- 
nel again and Miss Mittykins passed the mus- 
kets to him. With considerable difficulty John- 
ny propelled himself and two muskets to the 
opening and called, in a low tone : 

“ Stand by there.” 

“ Aye, aye,” came the answer, in Meredith’s 
voice. 

Johnny passed the muskets through, and as 
Meredith received the last one, he said : 

“ Say, Johnny, you’ve given me twice as 
many as we need.” 

I have a plan for using them all,” answered 
Johnny ; “ I’ll explain it to you afterward.” 

The boy now returned to Miss Mittykins and 
the two set to work to get a store of ammuni- 
tion into the forepeak. When that had been 
accomplished, Johnny said: 


256 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ I wonder if there are any pistols and cut- 
lasses in the cargo.” 

“ Let’s ask the Captain.” 

Another journey to the opening in the bulk- 
head and a minute’s conversation put Johnny 
in possession of the information that there 
were pistols and cutlasses. 

“ Now,” said Johnny, “we’ll just loosen the 
lids on the boxes that contain them.” 

“ Why not get them out?” 

“ Well, if my plan is agreeable to the rest, I 
think they will answer our purpose right here 
as well as they will anywhere else, and perhaps 
a little better.” 

Miss Mittykins looked at Johnny with grow- 
ing surprise and admiration. The boy was rap- 
idly developing a firmness and a swiftness of 
decision that caused his companion to say to 
himself : “ He’ll make a good officer some day.” 

“ Now,” said Johnny, when their task was 
completed, “let’s take a look around us and 
see if we have left anything that ought to be 
attended to.” 

As he stood on the pile of boxes, scratching 
his head and gazing anxiously around the dim- 
ly lighted hold, the boy was anything but a 
heroic figure, but Miss Mittykins could not 
help admiring him. 


yohnny Conceives a Plan 257 

‘‘Yes," he said, as if talking to himself, “ there 
is one thing more to do." 

He ascended the ladder to the main hatch 
and carefully examined the cover. He put up 
his hand and gave it a gentle push upward. 

“ Good ! " he exclaimed in a whisper. 

“ What are you at up there ? " inquired Miss 
Mittykins in a guarded tone. 

“ You’ll see, if my plan is accepted — and I 
think it will be. Why, those fellows must be 
stricken with insanity, or else they think we’re 
a lot of lunatics." 

“ It’s more likely that they are all drunk," 
said Miss Mittykins. 

“Well, I think they’ll get sober in a great 

hurry when they see . Never mind ; come 

on." 

And, chuckling with amusement at his own 
thoughts, Johnny started toward the tunnel 
once more. In a few minutes he was seated 
among his friends in the forepeak. 

“Wal,’’said Porgy, “we are got guns an* 
ammynition 'nuff fur a siege, but nobody don’t 
seem to be in no werry great hurry fur to siege 
us." 

“ Den we go on de deck an’ blow ’em inter 
de sea ! ’’ exclaimed Scipio. 

“ They are well armed," said Johnny. 

17 


258 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ An’ the fust head wot showed itself out o’ 
the hatch would get an extra hole into it 
werry sudden,” said Porgy. 

Well, well,” said the Captain, impatiently, 
“ what are we going to do ? ” 

“We might wait till night,” said Mr. Brew- 
er, “ and steal on deck in the cover of dark- 
ness.” 

“ Yes,” said the Captain, “ that might work. 
It would give us a chance to make an even 
fight.” 

“ Why don’t you speak up, Johnny ?” asked 
Miss Mittykins, impatiently. “ You told me 
you had a plan.” 

“ I thought some one else might have a 
better one,” said the boy, modestly. 

“ Wal,” said Porgy, “ some one else don’t 
seem to have no plan at all, so I reckon as how 
you’d better heave ahead an’ let’s hear yours.” 

In a low tone, as if he were afraid that the 
wooden walls of the brigantine might have 
ears, the boy unfolded the details of his simple 
plan, while his companions crowded around 
him and listened with increasing interest and 
approval depicted upon their earnest faces. 

“ My dear young friend,” said Mr. Durand, 
“ it seems to me to be a hazardous enterprise.” 

“ We’ll take the hazard,” said the Captain, 


Johnny Conceives a Plan 259 

shortly; you can hide. Young man, you’ve 
got a head on your shoulders. Don’t you 
think it’ll work, Mr. Brewer?” 

It looks feasible,” answered Johnny’s guar- 
dian, “ and I think we must try it.” 

It are a reg’lar do!” exclaimed Porgy. 
“ Only we’d best wait till dusk, so they can’t 
tell who it are that are cornin’ on deck. An’ 
now let’s cut the hole bigger an’ move one or 
two o’ them boxes away from it.” 

What our friends had thought to be a gale 
was only a squall, and as the twilight of that 
day faded away into the luminous dusk of a 
summer evening on the coast of the United 
States, the brigantine was slipping gently 
along at a six-knot gait under all plain sail. 
The man at the wheel was luxuriously sitting 
in a chair taken from the cabin, and was en- 
joying one of Mr. Brewer’s cigars. There was 
no lookout forward, but two of the crew 
lounged against the rail in the waist of the 
vessel. The mate walked up and down near 
the taffrail, and the remainder of the crew were 
in the cabin. At this moment a thin blue 
streak of smoke stole slowly out of the fore- 
hatch and wavered upward. In an another 
minute it had widened into a column and 
turned brown. The man at the wheel stared 


26 o The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

at it breathlessly, rubbed his eyes, and turned 
pale. At the same instant some one began to 
pound furiously on the under side of the fore- 
castle deck and a muffled voice shouted that 
most appalling of all cries at sea : 

‘‘Fire! Fire! Fire!’* 


CHAPTER XXXI 

HOW JOHNNY’S PLAN DEVELOPED 

In an instant the deck of the vessel was in 
an uproar. The two men lounging in the 
waist sprang forward repeating the wild cry of 
“Fire! Fire!” Peter Black ceased his leisure- 
ly walk up and down the quarter-deck and 
bawled down into the cabin : 

“All hands! There’s a fire forrad ! ” 

Jared Lure and the others came tumbling 
up with blanched faces. 

“ Them fellers down there’ll be smothered ! ” 
exclaimed one. 

“ Wot’s that to you ? ” demanded Jared, with 
an oath. “ Get buckets an’ blankets an’ jump 
below with me to smother the fire.” 

The men dashed about in wild haste to obey 
the order. In the meantime the smoke from 
the forehatch was growing browner and oilier 
in appearance, and the two hands who had 
hastened forward recoiled in dismay. 

“ Fire ! Fire ! ” cried the muffled voice down 
261 


262 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

in the forecastle, and then it faded away in a 
faint, choking moan. 

They’re a-suffocatin’ down there ! ” cried 
one of the mutineers. 

“ You two fellers get your guns an’ stan’ by to 
shoot the fust one o’ them that tries to come on 
deck,” ordered Jared. “ You others foller me.” 

Jared Lure was not deficient in physical cour- 
age and it was the men’s unconscious recogni- 
tion of this fact that had given him his hold 
upon them. So when he threw open the cover of 
the fore hatch they uttered a cheer. But even 
Jared staggered backward before the great cloud 
of choking smoke that swirled up into the air. 

“Wonder they didn’t wait till they was dead 
afore they hollered,” he muttered. “Wait a 
minute; that was bottled up smoke an’ it’ll be 
thinner directly.” 

Jared’s judgment proved to be correct, and 
in a few seconds the volume of smoke sensibly 
diminished, though there was still sufficient of 
it to be thoroughly alarming. 

“ Come on now,” cried Jared. “ Peter, keep 
her as she goes.” 

“ Aye, aye,” came the response from aft. 

Jared and his followers dropped down into 
the forecastle, where they were quite unable 
to see anything in the darkness. 


How yohnny s Plan Developed 263 

‘‘Blow the luck!” shouted Jared; “why 
didn’t some o’ ye fetch a lantern? Git one, 
quick, somebody ! ” 

Several more precious minutes were lost in 
procuring a lantern, and then a hasty glance 
around the place showed Jared that the fire 
was not there. 

“ Why, it’s down in the forepeak ! ” he cried. 
“ An’ hello, wot’s this ? A hole ! Them fellers 
has got down there an’ sot the brigantine afire ! ” 

A storm of groans and curses broke out at 
this announcement. 

“ Come on I ” cried Jared. “ Some of us must 
jump down there, or the fire’ll be gettin’ at the 
powder.” 

Pale faces turned paler at these words, but 
two of the most resolute of the men followed 
their chosen leader through the hole in the 
deck. Miss Mittykins was lying flat on his 
breast just behind the bulkhead that separated 
the forepeak from the hold. Through the hole 
which had been cut he looked and saw Jared 
descend from the forecastle. The next instant 
he sprang to his feet and dashed toward the 
main hatch. Beneath it were assembled all our 
friends, with their arms and ammunition. 

“ They’re down I ” exclaimed Miss Mittykins, 
in an intense whisper. 


264 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

“ My dear friends ! ” exclaimed Mr. Durand, 
in tones of trepidation ; wait a moment. Some 
of them may still be on the deck.” 

“ If you’re afraid to go up, stay below ! ” ex- 
claimed Captain Sparks. Now for it, my 
lads ; follow close ! ” 

With those words the Captain, assisted by 
Porgy, hurled back the cover of the main hatch 
and sprang on deck. 

“ Wot!” yelled Peter, mistaking them in the 
darkness for Jared and his companions, are 
she burnt through the bulkhead ? ” 

It are putty sure that somethin’s burnt 
through,” said Porgy, with a chuckle. 

“ And that am we,” cried Scipio. 

While these words were on their lips, Porgy, 
Scipio, and the Captain were making their way 
aft, according to the plan previously arranged. 

Throw up your hands ! ” shouted the Cap- 
tain, as he approached Peter Black. 

Who the blazes are you ? ” cried Peter, still 
unable to make out the face in the growing 
darkness. 

“ I’ll show you ! ” cried Captain Sparks. 

With these words he swung his musket 
around his head and aimed a crushing blow at 
the mutineer. But Peter sprang nimbly aside 
and drew from his belt a formidable looking 


How yohmiy s Plan Developed 265 

knife. At the same instant he shouted, in a 
hoarse voice : 

Forrad there! The prisoners is out! Lay 
aft ! ” 

“We’re out, and we’re out to stay,” said the 
Captain. “ Drop that knife, or I’ll blow your 
head off.” 

He levelled his musket, the muzzle of it al- 
most touching Peter’s face. 

“You’ve got the best of it,” muttered the 
mutineer, sullenly throwing his knife upon the 
deck. 

The Captain immediately bound him hand 
and foot and lashed him to the vessel’s rail. 
Then he turned to see how the contest was 
moving elsewhere. Porgy and Scipio had been 
told off to capture the wheel, and they had 
made a dash for it as soon as they reached the 
deck. But the man at the wheel had recov- 
ered his wits, and, dropping the spokes, he 
jumped for his musket. Seizing it with a haste 
that prevented anything like an aim, he fired it 
at Scipio. The flash of the powder almost 
scorched the negro’s hair and the bullet shrieked 
past his ear. With a yell of rage, Scipio, throw- 
ing away his musket and abandoning himself 
to the savage instincts that still dwelt in his 
nature, hurled his powerful frame upon the 


266 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

mutineer and together they fell to the deck. 
The helmsman had a knife in his girdle and 
vainly he strove to draw it and end a conflict 
which he felt must otherwise end in defeat for 
himself ; but Scipio pinioned his arms and 
wormed him toward the brigantine’s rail. 
Porgy in the meantime was dancing around 
the writhing contestants, looking for an op- 
portunity to administer a finishing blow with 
the butt of his musket. But so rapidly did the 
two men roll about the deck that he dared not 
strike lest he should injure his friend instead 
of the enemy. 

“ Let um be, Porgy ! ” yelled Scipio, who 
saw his companion’s anxiety ; I trow um in 
the sea ! ” 

Writhing with his opponent to the lee rail, 
the negro, with a final burst of his herculean 
strength, staggered to his feet, dragging the 
mutineer with him. Then he lifted the fellow 
clear off the deck and dashed him backward 
against the rail with such violence that the 
man almost swooned. 

“Ha, ha!” screamed Scipio; “you feed de 
shawk now 1 ” He was in the act of lifting the 
mutineer’s legs and toppling him backward 
into the ocean, when the Captain, who had 
ended his own contest with Peter, interposed. 





TOGETHER THEY FELL TO THE DECK 








How Johnny s Plan Developed 267 


“ Don’t, Scipio,” he said. “ Don’t take a life 
needlessly. Make him fast.” 

Accustomed to obedience to his superior 
officers, the negro unwillingly suspended his 
operation, and with a mumbled aye, aye, sah,” 
passed a line about the mutineer’s body and 
limbs in such a manner as to make him perfect- 
ly helpless. In the meantime, the wheel having 
been deserted, the brigantine had slowly come 
up into the wind, and this fact was made known 
by a great slatting and thundering of canvas 
aloft. 

‘‘To the helm there, Porgy,” cried the Cap- 
tain ; “ hard up with it before she loses her 
way !” 

The movement was none too quick, for the 
vessel had almost come to a stop. However, 
her head gradually fell off and in a few minutes 
she gathered way on her former course. Scipio 
now jumped to the wheel, while the Captain 
and Porgy dashed forward. Mr. Brewer, 
Morton, Meredith, Mittykins, Johnny, and the 
rest had been allotted duties forward. Their 
first work was to close and secure the fore and 
main hatches, in order to hold Jared and his 
companions as prisoners below. For this 
special duty the boys had been told off, two to 
each hatch, while the men were to engage any 


268 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

of the mutinous crew that might be on deck. 
So at the instant when the Captain, Porgy, and 
Scipio were hurrying aft, Johnny and Miss 
Mittykins rushed to the fore hatch and closed 
it with a bang. 

There,” said Johnny, triumphantly, “those 
fellows can put out my smoky oakum fire at 
their leisure now.” 

From which it will be understood that the 
fire was a mere trap. Meredith and Morton 
secured the main hatch and then uttered a 
cheer of victory. Their rejoicing was, how- 
ever, premature. The two men who had been 
lounging in the waist had now secured their 
muskets. Finding that they could not inter- 
cept Johnny and Miss Mittykins, they levelled 
their pieces and fired. The next instant the 
two boys returned the fire, and almost simul- 
taneously Meredith and Morton fired at the 
two men. The two mutineers fell to the deck 
without a sound, both shot through the body. 

“ Hurrah ! Hurrah ! ” cried the crew. 

“ And my little plan was — was ” 

Johnny’s voice broke into a quick, sobbing 
gasp ; he staggered back a step, and then fell 
heavily to the deck. 

“He’s wounded!” cried Mr. Brewer; “the 
poor boy is wounded ! ” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


ALL BACK AT SANCET 

Three days later the brigantine was on an 
easy bowline with her starboard tacks aboard 
and her jibboom pointing toward the safe 
waters under the muzzles of Fort Monroe. 
Johnny was sitting in a big chair on the deck, 
near the taffrail, absorbing the juice of an 
orange and enjoying the cool breeze that swept 
across the vessel and filled her creamy canvas. 
His left arm was in a sling. His wound had 
fortunately proved to be only superficial, and 
he had fainted from the shock and the reaction 
after the excitement of the fight. His plan of 
recapturing the vessel had proved to be an en- 
tire success. The two men — Peter Black and 
the helmsman — who had been overcome on the 
after deck had submitted to the authority of 
the Captain again, now that they found them- 
selves outnumbered, and were doing their 
share toward working the little vessel into 
port. Jared Lure and the others were still 

prisoners in the forecastle, and the loyal crew 
269 


270 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

was living aft. It was a strange and altogeth- 
er unusual arrangement, but, owing to the 
habits of discipline that prevailed among the 
naval sailors. Captain Sparks had no reason to 
complain of any lack of respect on the part of 
his men. Porgy was serving as mate and was 
bearing his new honors with becoming modesty, 
though not without frequent references to the 
“ widder.” 

Mr. Brewer was moody and silent most of 
the time, for his expedition had proved thus far 
to be a failure and he was literally at sea, with- 
out a home and with a cargo of arms and am- 
munition on his hands. Johnny understood 
his guardian’s feelings and reflected long and 
earnestly as to the course he ought to pursue. 
The more he thought about it, the more he 
was convinced that it was to be his duty to 
persuade Mr. Brewer to return to Sancet, and 
to show him how he could do it with honor. 
So when his guardian approached him in the 
afternoon, Johnny said: 

“ Mr. Brewer, what are you going to do with 
the cargo of this brigantine ? ” 

The man started, flushed, and was about to 
turn away, but the boy detained him. 

Don’t you see that luck’s been against you 
in this matter ever since the start?” 


All Back at Sancet 


271 

“What do you mean, boy?” demanded Mr. 
Brewer, in a husky tone. 

“ I mean that I have guessed what you in- 
tended to do with these guns and other things.” 

For a moment or two Mr. Brewer was silent, 
and then he said, very shortly : 

“ Well, I can’t do it now, at any rate.” 

“ No,” said Johnny, “but you can do some- 
thing a good deal better.” 

“ What is it?” 

“ When we arrive at Fort Monroe, run up 
the flag of the Union, call all hands to give 
three cheers, and make a present of this cargo 
to the Federal Government.” 

Johnny’s eyes flashed with enthusiasm, and 
Mr. Brewer regarded him with surprise. 

“ Why, it would ruin me!” he exclaimed. 

“ Don’t you believe it,” replied Johnny, with 
great earnestness. “ No one in Sancet need 
know that you did not start out for that very 
purpose, and you could go back there and be 
the most popular man in town.” 

Mr. Brewer took a turn across the deck and 
then gazed intently at Johnny. 

“You would betray me,” he said. 

“ Why? On account of the money? I guess 
you are going to make that all right, Mr. 
Brewer.” 


272 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

There was another minute’s hesitation, and 
then the man stretched out his hand, which the 
boy wrung heartily. 

“Johnny,” said Mr. Brewer, “I’ve been a dis- 
honest man ; but I’ll do the right thing by you ; 
I will, indeed.” 

“ May I tell Porgy ? ” 

“ Of course, and let him tell the crew. I’ll 
tell the Captain.” 

The news quickly spread through the little 
vessel, and when the musical voice of Miss Mit- 
tykins floated down from the foretop with the 
cheering words, “ Land ho ! ” the whole crew 
gave three hearty cheers for Mr. Brewer. In 
the first dog-watch the brigantine sailed slowly 
up to her anchorage, and as she approached it, 
Porgy, leaping three feet from the deck, cried : 

“ By the great hook-block ! Look yonder ! ” 

And they all saw, riding safely on the smooth 
blue waters, the good ship Mohawk. The brig- 
antine anchored within hail of her and our 
friends lined the rail and cheered her with wild 
enthusiasm. The quartermaster on watch was 
seen to level his glass and then hastily report 
something to the officer of the deck. The next 
moment Porgy and his companions heard the 
piping of the boatswain’s mate’s whistle and 
his hoarse voice bawled : 


All Back at Sancet 


273 


** Away, third cutter ! ** 

Ten minutes later Ensign Truxton was on 
the deck of the brigantine, listening to the 
story of the Mohawk’s men. Mr. Drake and 
his crew had arrived safely, having been picked 
up by a steamer and carried to Philadelphia, 
but Porgy’s boat and its crew had been given 
up for lost. 

“ You have done well, Lynn,” said Mr. Trux- 
ton, and the Captain will be well pleased.” 

And Porgy said he had not been so happy 
since the “ widder ” took him to the circus. 
After a conference with Captain Barker, Mr. 
Truxton returned with an armed guard and 
took the mutineers ashore, to be turned over to 
the civil authorities. Mr. Brewer went ashore 
in the same boat, and returned with the cheer- 
ing news that he had made arrangements for 
the delivery of the arms and ammunition to 
the commandant of the fort. He and Captain 
Sparks dined aboard the Mohawk that evening, 
and when they came back they told our friends 
that Captain Barker had promised to procure 
leaves of absence for them all, and that, as the 
Mohawk was to go into the dock for repairs to 
her hull, they would all be allowed to sail with 
the brigantine to Sancet, where Johnny would 
remain till he was fit for duty again. Mean- 
18 


2 74 Last Cruise of the Mohawk 


while, Mr. Durand had been hard at work on 
a letter, which duly appeared in the Sancct 
Weekly Chronicle and Journal of Civilization. A 
part of it read thus : 

'‘The enlightened and patriotic people of 
Sancet will rejoice to know that their esteemed 
fellow-townsman, Mr. Hiram Brewer, accom- 
panied by Mr. Durand, formerly head-master 
of the famous Tuzo School, has arrived at Fort 
Monroe with his brigantine, and presented her 
cargo of arms and ammunition to the comman- 
dant of that historic Union stronghold. Mr. 
Brewer has with him his son, Morton Brewer, 
and his ward, John Rodgers, who was supposed 
to have been drowned off Sancet. Both of 
these young men were picked up at sea in an 
open boat, and were instrumental in saving the 
brigantine from a mutinous crew. The whole 
stor}^ is romantic and absorbing.” 

Mr. Durand then proceeded to narrate, in 
some two columns and a half, the adventures of 
the two boys and the fortunes of the brigantine. 
When the good people of Sancet read this re- 
markable story, they experienced a total change 
of heart. They decided that in Mr. Brewer 
and Mr. Durand they had been entertaining 
angels unawares, while they voted Johnny 
Rodgers to be a thorough hero. So they set 


All Back at Sancet 275 

about preparing for their celebrities such a re- 
ception as the town had never before seen. 

The brigantine, in the meantime, got under 
way from Hampton Roads in a blaze of fine 
weather and was convoyed as far as the mouth 
of the Delaware by a grim-looking, double- 
turreted monitor with a six-syllabled Indian 
name. The Mohawk’s crew manned the rig- 
ging and cheered her as she sailed away, and 
the band at the Fort played ‘'Columbia, the 
Gem of the Ocean.” Fair winds and smooth 
seas made it an easy sail of three days and a 
half to Sancet, and consequently, on the morn- 
ing of the fourth day, the brigantine entered 
the harbor and dropped her anchor. 

“W’y,” exclaimed Porgy, looking hard at 
the little town, “ they’re smothered in flags.” 

It was, indeed, true. Flags were flying in 
every direction, and the shores were lined with 
excited people, whose cheers floated bravely 
across the waters. As soon as the brigantine 
came to anchor the militia began firing a salute 
of twenty-one guns from an old brass twelve- 
pounder, and the Sancet Fife and Drum Corps 
played “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” A 
boat rowed off to the vessel, conveying the 
chief men of the village and the Congressman 
representing the district. Our friends were 


276 The Last Cruise of the Mohazvk 

welcomed most heartily, and were persuaded 
to go at once to the shore, where the celebra- 
tion would begin. Up the main street of San- 
cet, escorted by the band and the militia com- 
pany, they marched to the town hall, where the 
formal speeches were made. Mr. Brewer’s 
eyes and mouth opened to their fullest extent 
when he heard what a great and good man he 
was, and as for Johnny, he had to hide his face, 
while Porgy almost danced with joy. The 
Congressman made the principal speech, fol- 
lowing two of the townsmen, and he aroused 
the greatest enthusiasm of the day. He said, 
at the conclusion of his remarks: 

“John Rodgers, stand forward.” 

Johnny, with his arm still in a sling, wonder- 
ingly obeyed. 

“ My young friend,” said the Congressman, 
“you have begun your career in the Navy in a 
splendid manner; but it is altogether unfitting 
that you should continue it as an apprentice. 
It therefore gives me the greatest pleasure to 
announce that I have purchased your discharge 
and that I have formally appointed you a cadet 
at the Naval Academy.” 

A storm of cheers almost brought the plas- 
ter off the ceiling, and Johnny was speechless 
with emotion. The crowd shouted, “ Speech ! 


All Back at Sancet 


277 


Speech ! ” but the poor boy wiped his stream- 
ing eyes and shook his head. Still the audi- 
ence shouted, but there was a sudden silence, 
when the sinuous figure of Miss Mittykins ad- 
vanced to the front of the platform. The boy 
looked affectionately at Johnny, and then, lift- 
ing up his clear, young voice, sang the memor- 
able song of Mile, de Calaveras, ‘‘ Little Car- 
dee.” At its conclusion, another storm of 
applause filled the house, and then some bright 
fellow at the rear of the room set up a cry for 
Porgy Lynn,” for his name had been frequent 
in Mr. Durand’s story. The crowd took up 
the cry, and finally Johnny seized Porgy by# 
the hand and led him forward. The bronzed 
seaman looked about him doubtfully, and then 
said : 

Mr. Speaker, an’ Mr. Brewer, an’ Johnny, 
an’ everybody ; I ain’t no speechifyer, not gin’r- 
ally havin’ wery much fur ter say ’cept ' Aye, 
aye, sir,’ or ‘ Land ho,’ or ‘ By the mark ten,’ 
or some other sich salt lingo. But Fd like to 
say on this suspigious occasion, as the widder 
would ’a’ called it, that the school-master’s log 
o’ Johnny Rodgers’s fust v’yage aint laid it on 
none too thick, w’ich Fm pussonally a witness 
to. An’ sence it are settled now that he are 
a-goin’ to be a ossifer, I reckon that all on us, in- 


278 The Last Cruise of the Mohawk 

eludin’ Scipio Africanus, don’t ask fur nothin’ 
better than to stay right in the sarvice till 
vve gets a chance to sarve under him, fur vve 
guesses he’ll make a right smart ossifer. ’Cos 
w’y ? Wal, as the widder used ter say, leddies 
an’ gemmen, the housekeeper can’t boss the 
cook ’less she knows how to cook herself. So 
there ye are, an’ with my best respecks, here’s 
wishin’ you all long life and happiness.” 

Porgy scraped a low bow and stepped back. 
Johnny seized him by the hand, but the other 
Mohawk sailors crowded around and raised the 
boy on their shoulders, where he dimly saw a 
forest of waving arms and heard the roar of 
many voices. 


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and it is a true and faithful picture of a period of history little known to young 
readers. 

AT WAR WITH PONTIAC ; or, The Totem of the Bear. A Tale of Red- 
coat AND Redskin. With 8 full-page illustrations by J. Finnemore. i2mo, $1.25. 

A story of old days in America when Detroit was a frontier town and the 
shores of Lake Erie were held by hostile Indians under Pontiac. The hero, 
Donald Hester, goes in search of his sister Edith, who has been captured by the 
Indians. Strange and terrible are his experiences; for he is wounded, taken 
prisoner, condemned to be burned, and contrives to escape. _ In the end there is 
peace between Pontiac and the English, and all things terminate happily for the 
hero. One dares not skip a page of this enthralling story. 

THE WHITE CONQUERORS. A Tale of Toltec and Aztec. With 8 full- 
page illustrations by W. S. Stacey. i2mo, 11,25. 

This story deals with the Conquest of Mexico by Cortes and his Spaniards, the 
“ White Conquerors,” who, after many deeds of valor, pushed their way into the 
great Aztec kingdom and established their power in the wondrous city where 
Montezuma reigned in barbaric splendor. 


SCRIBNE1i;S ‘BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG 


BOOKS BY WILLIAM HENRY FROST 


JUST PUBLISHED 

THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE. Illustrated and cover designed by 
S. R. Burleigh. i2tno, $1.50. 

Mr. Frost’s volumes of folk-lore stories have achieved a deserved popularity, and 
this last one, dealing with the ever-fascinating theme of the Round Table and its 
knights, is equal to either of his earlier books. 


MR. FROST*S FORMER BOOKS 


THE COURT OP KING ARTHUR. Stories from the Land of the Round 
Table. Illustrated by S. R. Burleigh. lamo, 11.50. 

Mr. Frost has had the happy idea of making a journey to the different places con- 
nected with the Arthurian romances by history or legend, and of relating the ever 
new Round Table Tales on their sites, to the same little girl, now somewhat older, 
to whom he told his charming Wagner stories. 

THE WAGNER STORY BOOK. Firelight Tales of the Great Music 
Dramas. Illustrated by Sidney R. Burleigh. lamo, $1.50. 

“A successful attempt to make the romantic themes of the music drama intelligi- 
ble to young readers. The author has full command of his subject, and the style 
is easy, graceful, and simple.”— Beacon. 


ROBERT GRANT’S TWO BOOKS FOR BOYS 


JACK HALL; or. The School Days of an American Boy. Illustrated by F. 
G. Attwood. i2mo, I1.25. 

” A better book for boys has never been written. It is pure, clean, and healthy, 
and has throughout 3 vigorous action that holds the reader breathlessly.” 

— Boston Herald. 

JACK IN THE BUSH; OR, A Summer on a Salmon River. Illustrated by F. T. 
Merrill. larao, $1.25. 

” A clever book for boys. It is the story of the camp life of a lot of boys, and is 
destined to please every boy reader. It is attractively illustrated.” 

— Detroit Free Press. 


THE RANTER GIRLS 

By Mary L, B. Branch. Illustrated by Helen M. Armstrong. Square lamo, 
I1.50. 

The adventures of Jane and Prue, two small sisters, among different peoples of 
the imaginative world — dryads, snow-children, Kobolds, etc.— aided by their 
invisible rings, their magic boat, and their wonderful birds, are described by the 
author with great naturalness and a true gift for story-telling. The numerous 
illustrations are very attractive, and in thorough sympathy with the text. 


SCRIBNRT{;S mOOKS FOR THE YOUNG 


SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE’S HISTORICAL BOOKS 

JUST ISSUJSD 

THE BORDER WARS OF NEW ENGLAND 

Commonly Called King William’s and Queen Anne’s Wars. By Samuel 
Adams Drake. With 58 illustrations and maps. i2mo, $1.50. 

Mr. Drake has made a consecutive, entertaining narrative of the border wars 
which the French and Indians waged against the English settlers in New Eng- 
land during the reigns of King William and Queen Anne. The story is full of 
adventurous interest and is told with that minute attention to suggestive and in- 
structive details which have been the distinguishing feature of Mr. Drake’s other 
books. The illustrations, many of them from photographs of historic spots and of 
buildings still standing, are of exceptional interest. 

FORMER VOI^UMFS 

THE MAKING OF THE OHIO VALLEY STATES. 1660-1837. Illustrated. 
i2mo, $1.50. 

THE MAKING OF VIRGINIA AND THE MIDDLE COLONIES. 1578-1701. Il- 
lustrated. i2mo, $1.50. 

THE MAKING OF NEW ENGLAND. 1580-1643. With 148 illustrations and 
with maps. i2mo, $1.50. 

THE MAKING OF THE GREAT WEST. 1812-1853. With 145 illustrations and 
with maps. i2mo, $1.50. 

STORIES OF LITERATURE, SCIENCE. AND HIS- 
TORY BY HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN WRIGHT 

A NFW VOI^UMF JUST ISSUFD 

CHILDREN’S STORIES IN AMERICAN LITERATURE.— 1860-1896. i2mo, 
f 1. 25- 

Miss Wright here continues the attractive presentation of literary history begun 
in her “ Children’s Stories in English Literature,” taking up the literary figures 
that have appeared since the time of the civil war, and treating their works and 
personalities in a simple manner, interesting to young readers. 

CHILDREN’S STORIES IN AMERICAN LITERATURE.— 1660-1860. i2mo, 
I1.25. 

CHILDREN’S STORIES IN ENGLISH LITERATURE. Two volumes : Talie- 
sin TO Shakespeare— Shakespeare to Tennyson. i2mo, each, $1.25. 

CHILDREN’S STORIES OF THE GREAT SCIENTISTS. With portraits. 
l2mo, $1.25. 

CHILDREN’S STORIES IN AMERICAN HISTORY. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.25. 

CHILDREN’S STORIES OF AMERICAN PROGRESS. Illustrated. i2mQ, 
I1.25. 


SCRIBNET^S T300KS FOR THE YOUNG 


THREE BOOKS OF SPORTS AND GAMES 

THE AMERICAN BOY’S BOOK OF SPORT. Out door Games for All Sea- 
sons. By Daniel C. Beard. With over 300 illustrations by the author. 8vo, 
$2.50. 

This is an entirely new book by Mr. Beard, containing altogether new matter of 
great interest to all young lovers of sport. It is a companion volume to the author’s 
well-known “ American Boy’s Handy Book,” of which over twenty-five thousand 
copies have been sold, and will undoubtedly rival that famous work in popularity 
as it does in interest. 

THE AMERICAN BOY’S HANDY BOOK ; OR, What to Do and How to Do 
IT. By Daniel C. Beard. With 360 illustrations by the author. Square 8vo, 
$2.00. 

‘‘ The book has this great advantage over its predecessors, that most of the games, 
tricks, and other amusements described in it are new. It treats of sports adapted 
to all seasons of the year ; it is practical, and it is well illustrated.” 

— JVezt/ York Tribune. 

THE AMERICAN GIRL’S HANDY BOOK. By Lena and Adelia B. Beard. 
With over 500 illustrations by the authors. Square 8vo, I2.00. 

” I have put it in my list of good and useful books for young people, as I have 
many requests for advice from my little friends and their anxious mothers. I am 
most happy to commend your very ingenious and entertaining book.” 

— Louisa M. Alcott. 

THOMAS NELSON PAGE’S TWO BOOKS 

AMONG THE CAMPS; or, Young People’s Stories of the War. With 8 
full-page illustrations. Square 8vo, $1.50. 

” They are five in number, each having reference to some incident of the Civil 
War. A vein of mingled pathos and humor runs through them all, and greatly 
heightens the charm of them. It is the early experience of the author himself, 
doubtless, which makes his pictures of life in a Southern home during the great 
struggle so vivid and truthful.”— 7 ) 4 ^ Nation. 

TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES. With 8 full-page illustrations by Kemble 
and Redwood. Square 8vo, $1.50. 

‘‘Mr. Page was ‘raised’ in Virginia, and he knows the ‘darkey’ of the South 
better than any one who writes about them. And he knows ‘ white folks,’ too, and 
his stories, whether for old or young people, have the charm of sincerity and 
beauty and reality.” — Harper's Young People. 


EDWARD EGGLESTON’S TWO POPULAR BOOKS 

THE HOOSIER SCHOOL-BOY. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.00. 

‘“ The Hoosier School-Boy ’ depicts some of the characteristics of boy-life years 
ago on the Ohio ; characteristics, however, that were not peculiar to that section. 
The story presents a vivid and interesting picture of the difficulties which in those 
days beset the path of the youth aspiring for an education.” 

— Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

QUEER STORIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.* i2mo, $1.00. 

‘‘ A very bright and attractive little volume for young readers. The stories are 
fresh, breezy, and healthy, with a good point to them and a good, sound American 
view of life and the road to success. The book abounds in good feeling and good 
sense, and is written in a style of homely dsV'— Independent. 


SCRIBNERS ‘BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG 


BOOKS BY HOWARD PYLE 

BEHIND THE GARDEN OF THE MOON. A Real Story of the Moon 
Angel. Written and illustrated by Howard Pyle. Square lamo, $2.00, 

Out of the truth that great deeds are achieved and high character moulded by 
entire spiritual consecration, rather than by direct and interested effort, the 
author has evolved a winning and delightful piece of fanciful fiction, and has il- 
lustrated it copiously in his happiest and most characteristically poetical vein. 

THE MERRY ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD of Great Renown in Not- 
tinghamshire. With many illustrations. Royal 8vo, $3.00. 

“ This superb book is unquestionably the most original and elaborate ever pro- 
duced by any American artist. Mr. Pyle has told, with pencil and pen, the com- 
plete and consecutive story of Robin Hood and his merry men in their haunts in 
Sherwood Forest, gathered from the old ballads and legends. Mr. Pyle’s admira- 
ble illustrations are strewn profusely through the book.” — Boston Transcript. 

OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND. With many illustrations. Royal 8vo, half 
leather, $2.00. 

“ The scene of the story is mediaeval Germany in the time of the feuds and robber 
barons and romance. The kidnapping of Otto, his adventures among rough 
soldiers,;and his daring rescue, make up a spirited and.thrilling story.” — Christian 
Union. 

THE BUTTERFLY HUNTERS IN THE CARIBBEES 

By Dr. Eugene Murray-Aaron. With 8 full-page illustrations. Square i2mo, 
$2.00. 

Our author only reproduces the incidents and scenes of his own life, as an 
exploring naturalist, in a way to capture the attention of younger readers.” 

Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

JUST PUBLISHED 

THE KING OF THE BRONCOS 

And Other Tales of New Mexico. By Charles F. Lummis. Illustrated by 
Victor P^rard. i2mo, $1.25. 

A charming collection of stories of life and adventure in the Southwest. The last 
story, ‘‘ My Friend Will,” is a masterpiece, with a brainy moral for adult as well 
as juvenile readers. 


A NEW MEXICO DAVID 

And Other Stories and Sketches of the South-west. By Charles F. 
Lummis. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.25. 

” Mr. Lummis has lived for years in the land of the Pueblos ; has traversed it in 
every direction, both on foot and on horseback ; and it is an enthralling treat set 
before youthful readers by him in this series of lively chronicles. Beacon. 

STORIES FOR BOYS 

By Richard Harding Davis. With 6 full-page illustrations. i2mo, $1.00. 

It will be astonishing indeed if youths of all ages are not fascinated with these 
‘Stories for Boys.’ Mr. Davis knows infallibly what will interest his young 
readers.” — Boston Beacon. 


SCRIBNEI^S ‘BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG 


HEROES OF THE OLDEN TIME 

By James Baldwin. Three volumes, i2mo, each beautifully illustrated. Singly, 
I1.50; the set, $4.00. " 

A STORY OP THE GOLDEN AGE. Illustrated by Howard Pyle. 

“ Mr, Baldwin’s book is redolent with the spirit of the Odyssey, that glorious 
primitive epic, fresh with the dew of the morning of time. It is an unalloyed 
pleasure to read his recital of the adventures of the wiley Odysseus. Howard 
Pyle’s illustrations render the spirit of the Homeric age with admirable felicity.” 

—Prof. H. H. Bovesen. 

THE STORY OF SIEGFRIED. Illustrated by Howard Pyle. 

THE STORY OF ROLAND. Illustrated by R. B. Birch. 

THE BOY’S LIBRARY OF LEGEND AND CHIVALRY 

Edited by Sidney Lanier, and richly illustrated by Fredericks, Bensell, and 
Kappes. Four volumes, cloth, uniform binding, price per set, I7.00. Sold sepa- 
rately, price per volume, $2.00. 

Mr. Lanier’s books present to boy readers the old English classics of history 
and legend in attractive form. While they are stories of action and stirring inci- 
dent, they teach those lessons which manly, honest boys ought to learn. 

THE BOY’S KINO ARTHUR THE BOY’S PERCY 

THE BOY’S FROISSART THE KNIGHTLY LEGENDS OP WALES 

FRANK R. STOCKTON’S BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG 

” His books for boys and girls are classics .” — Newark Advertiser. 

THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE, and Other Stories. With 24 illustrations 
by Blashfield, Rogers, Beard, and others. Square 8vo, I1.50. 

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED. Illustrated by Pennell, Parsons, and others. 
Square 8vo, $2.00. 

THE STORY OF VITEAU. Illustrated by R. B. Birch. i2mo, $1.50. 

A JOLLY FELLOWSHIP. With 20 illustrations. i2mo, $1.50. 

THE FLOATING PRINCE AND OTHER FAIRY TALES. Illustrated. Square 
8vo, $1.50. 

THE TING-A-LING TALES. Illustrated. i2mo, |i,oo. 

ROUNDABOUT RAMBLES IN LANDS OP FACT AND FICTION. Illus- 
trated. Square 8vo, $i 50. 

TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. With nearly 200 illustrations. Square 8vo, I1.50. 

” The volumes are profusely illustrated and contain the most entertaining 
sketches in Mr. Stockton’s most entertaining manner .” — Christian Union, 

THINGS WILL TAKE A TURN 

By Beatrice Harraden, author of ‘‘ Ships That Passjn the Night,”^Illustrat«d. 
i2mo, |i.oo. 

One cannot help being fascinated by the sweet little heroine of this tale, she is so 
engaging, so natural ; and to love Rosebud is to love all her friends and enter 
sympathetically into the good fortune she brought them. 


SCRIBNEl^S ^OOKS FOR THE YOUNG 


JULES VERNE’S GREATEST WORK 
“THE EXPLORATION OF THE WORLD.’* 

“ M. Verne’s scheme in this work is to tell fully how man has made acquaintance 
with the world in which he lives, to combine into a single work in three volumes 
the wonderful stories of all the great explorers, navigators, and travelers who have 
sought out, one after another, the once uttermost parts of the earth.” 

— The New York Evening Post, 

The three volumes, in a set, $7.50; singly, $2.50. 

FAMOUS TRAVELS AND TRAVELLERS. With over 100 full-page illustra- 
tions, maps, etc. 8vo, $2.50. 

THE GREAT NAVIGATORS OF THE XVIIIth CENTURY. With 96 full-page 
illustrations and 19 maps. 8vo, $2.50. 

THE GREAT EXPLORERS OF THE XIXth CENTURY. With over 100 full- 
page illustrations, fac-similes, etc. 8vo, $2.50. 


JULES VERNE’S STORIES. UNIFORM 
ILLUSTRATED EDITION 

Nine volumes, 8vo, extra cloth, with over 750 full-page illustrations. Price, per 
set, in a box, $17.50. Sold also in separate volumes. 

MICHAEL STROGOFF ; or. The Courier of the Czar, $2.00. A FLOATING 
CITY AND THE BLOCKADE RUNNERS. $2.00. HECTOR 5 ERVADAC. $2.00. 
A JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH. $2.00. FROM THE 
EARTH TO THE MOON. $2.00. DICK SANDS. $2.00. THE STEAM 
HOUSE. $2.oo.*.THE giant RAFT. $2.00. THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND. $2.50. 

NOAH BROOKS’S BOOKS FOR BOVS 

THE BOY SETTLERS. A Story of Early Times in Kansas. With 16 full- 
page illustrations by W. A. Rogers. i2mo, $1.25. 

“ A volume that all spirited boys will admire ; its descriptions of frontier life are 
accurate and exciting .” — Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 

THE BOY EMIGRANTS. With illustrations by T. Moran and W. L. Sheppard. 
i2mo, $1.25. 

“ It is one of the best boys’ stories we have ever read. There is nothing morbid 
or unhealthy about it. His heroes are thorough boys, with all the faults of their 
age.”— 77 /^ Christian at IVork. 

THE FAIRPORT NINE. By Noah Brooks. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.25. 

” It is full of wild adventures and boyish tricks, but its general tone is wholesome 
and manly, and while its young' readers will find it sufficiently ‘jolly ’ they will get 
no harm from lU” -^Philadelphia Times. 


SCRIBNEl^S ‘BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG 


THE NORSELAND SERIES 

By H, H. Boyesen. 

NORSELAND TALES. Illustrated, i2mo, $1.25. 

BOYHOOD IN NORWAY : Nine Stories of Deeds of the Sons of the 
Vikings. With 8 illustrations. i2mo, $1.25. 

AGAINST HEAVY ODDS, and a Fearless Trio. With 13 full-page illustra- 
tions by W. L. Taylor. i2mo, $1.25. 

THE MODERN VIKINGS: Stories of Life and Sport in the Norseland. 
With many full-page illustrations. i2mo, $1.25. 

The four above volumes in a box, $5.00. 

TWO BOOKS BY ROSSITER JOHNSON 

THE END OF A RAINBOW. An American Story. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.50. 
‘‘ It will be read with breathless interest. It is interesting and full of boyish ex- 
perience.” — The Independent. 

PHAETON ROGERS. A Novel of Boy Life. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.50. 

BOOKS OF ADVENTURE BY ROBERT LEIGHTON 

JVST PUBI^ISniiD 

THE GOLDEN GALLEON. A Story of Queen Elizabeth’s Time. Illus- 
trated. i2mo, $1.50. 

PREVIOUS VOEUMES 

OLAP THE GLORIOUS. A Story of Olaf Triggvison, King of Norway, 
A. D. 995-1000. Crown 8vo, with numerous full-page illustrations, $1.50. 

THE WRECK OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE. The Story of a North Sea 
Fisher Boy. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, $1.50. 

THE THIRSTY SWORD. A Story of the Norse Invasion of Scotland, 
1262-65. With 8 illustrations and a map. Crown 8vo, #1.50. 

THE PILOTS OF POMONA. A Story of the Orkney Islands. With 8 illus- 
trations and a map. Crown 8vo, ^1.50. 

“ Mr. Leighton as a writer for boys needs no praise, as his books place him in the 
front rank .” — New York Observer, 


NEW AMSTERDAM EDITION 

HANS BRINKER; or, The Silver Skates. By Mary Mapes Dodge. New 
edition, with over 100 illustrations by Allen B. Doggett. i2mo, $2.50. 

Mrs. Dodge’s ever-popular story will appeal afresh to old and new readers in this 
handsome new edition. The pictures not only adorn the book most attractively, 
but illustrate it in the highest sense, reflecting the spirit of the text most admira- 
bly, and depicting the Dutch scenes and characters with great fidelity. They are 
the result of a special journey to Holland, undertaken by the artist in order that 
he might visit, in person, the places where scenes of Mrs, Dodge’s story were laid. 

W. O. STODDARD’S BOOKS FOR BOYS 

DAB KINZER. A Story of a Growing Boy. SALTILLO BOYS 

THE QUARTET. A Sequel to Dab Kinzer. AMONG THE LAKES 

WINTER FUN 


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